


Wild Flowers

by JamesJohnEye



Series: Founding Fathers [4]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Past Child Abuse, Young Daryl Dixon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 121,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24933982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesJohnEye/pseuds/JamesJohnEye
Summary: After another devastating blow, the communities are falling apart. Carl’s vision of the New World is in jeopardy. Daryl sets out to make wrongs right again.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Founding Fathers [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/893985
Comments: 283
Kudos: 193





	1. Wild Flowers

* * *

'Death, the most awful of evils, is nothing to us.'

\- Epicurus

* * *

The sun is coming up.

Daryl watches from a riverbank how the light spreads across the water and forest beyond. The New World is quiet this early in the morning. A couple of birds hesitantly call out, flutter their wings in the greenery, take flight in search of some food and water, but that’s all he can hear beside the rushing water of the river. The tide is not particularly strong here. Further up the river, Alexandria has built several dams to generate electricity per Eugene’s orders.

The water is so clear that Daryl can see fish swim by. He’s seen people from Oceanside throw a spear into the water, hauling it back by the piece of rope fastened to the end, but he’d never managed to catch anything that way. Even with a rod, he hadn’t been very successful. The memory of Andrea and Amy is fuzzy in the details when it comes to which bait to use. His dad had taught him how to fish back in the day too. He’d returned from those trips with more tall tales and an empty bucket though.

The fish shoot away when Daryl stands up and his shadow hits the water. They disappear into the blueness and shimmers down the river. He tries to follow them until his gaze is drawn to the remains of the bridge that used to be a shortcut to one of the safe houses. A small cabin at the edge of a camping site, where food would be stashed in a big sack hanging from a high beam which had led to Eduardo explaining to him what a piñata is.

It no longer belongs to them. The bridge has been blown up by Alexandria in an attempt to use the river as a natural border between them and the Whisperer lands. Daryl had objected to it, arguing that it would just make it harder for Hilltop Colony to come to Alexandria’s aid, that it would cut them off from each other too, but that hadn’t stopped Michonne. It hadn’t mattered to her.

Alexandria closed its gates. Blew up the bridges between them. Shot before asking any question, let alone Rick’s three.

Daryl can’t say he blames them. It didn’t even surprise him, though it hurts that he’s been shut out on the other side of those thick, metal sheets. Every time he tries to raise Carl on the radio, someone else tells him he has just missed his brother, that he can leave a message. Carl never answers those. Enid sometimes calls, voice hushed like she’s doing it in secret, abruptly ending the call when a door opens somewhere in the house.

In all of his days of being a messenger, he’d never dreaded delivering a message more than that one to Michonne. That bloody bag heavy in his hand. Carl so quiet beside him. Some nights he still wakes up, thinking he can hear the woman scream when Enid finally managed to get the words out. On dark nights, he thinks it shouldn’t cut so deep. Just another voice keeping him up, another loved-one haunting him. He should have gotten used to it by now.

It still surprises him that he doesn’t dream about Rick. He doesn’t dream about much anymore these days. Maybe Harlan was right that talking about the man would help. If he tortures himself with doing that while he’s awake, his subconscious might take pity on him at long last. So he grinds out that Rick taught him how to shoot a gun when someone asks, trying not to remember the two of them in the clearing, with Rick trying his hardest to strengthen their fragile bond and him not having any of it.

Daryl picks up a small rock. He lets it roll around on his palm, closes his fingers around it and squeezes as hard as he can until his knuckles hurt and his skin threatens to break on the tiny, sharp ridges. Then he throws it up in the air, catches it once, and then tosses it into the river to scare some more fish. With a last lingering look at the sunrise, he heads back towards the road.

The strands of the tall grass tickle his knees through the rips in his jeans. He’s wearing a black hoodie over his Washington armor against the early morning chill. The new, black backpack a runner had found him is just heavy enough not to bounce on his back and his sturdy boots make sure he doesn’t slip on the wet ground. When he looks up and adjusts his baseball cap, swiping some of the long strands under the brim so they’ll stay out of his eyes, he spots Aaron on the edge of the field.

The man is watching him. He’s wearing a checked button-up shirt which Merle used to tease him about, saying it made him look like one of those models in outdoor magazines. Most of it is covered by his dark green coat though, which Daryl knows is waterproof and warm. The man doesn’t look alarmed, or even like he’s really waiting for the youngest Dixon. He’s just standing there.

When Daryl gets closer, he offers Aaron a smile. ‘Was Paul about to lose it?’

‘Just about to,’ Aaron says. There’s a rifle hanging from his shoulder and he shrugs it higher before turning so he can fall into step with the young man. ‘That was clever of you, rigging the countdown like that.’

Daryl smirks at his boots. ‘Yeah, he was gettin’ on my nerves.’

‘He means well.’

‘I know.’

Together they walk along the road back to the rendezvous point. Several of the other teams have already made it back. A couple of guards from Hilltop Colony are sitting and standing around near a big intersection. Some talk quietly among themselves, but most are dozing in the early morning sunlight, heads on their packs but hands still curled around their knives or spears. It’s been a long night for all of them.

Paul is standing on the side of the road with his back towards the approaching duo. He scuffs one of his army boots on the ridge of the crumbling asphalt with a rhythmic motion. He has left his leather coat at home and wears a padded vest to keep himself warm. The baggy cargo jeans sag low due to the weight of his two knives. Maggie keeps asking him why he even wears two belts if neither of them keep his pants up.

Daryl whistles. A short, sharp burst of sound which causes several heads to snap up. They relax and look away after spotting the young man, though some raise their hand in greeting before dozing off again. Daryl smiles when Paul glances his way and the man’s shoulders relax fractionally.

Aaron veers off to join the guards on the ground, but Daryl heads over to stand next to Paul.

‘Missed me?’

‘Yes.’

Daryl grins and knocks their shoulders together before fishing a cigarette out of his pocket. The silver Zippo-lighter is warm from being pressed against his thigh all night. He’s glad they can still find lighter fluid in shacks and cupboards to fill it up. He dreads the day that it will be useless and empty, though he doubts he’ll get rid of it even then.

‘The riverbank is quiet, no sign of nobody.’

Paul nods. ‘One group found an abandoned campsite near the interstate. Small, just a campfire basically.’

‘Could have been anyone’s,’ Daryl says, words intertwining with smoke as it spills from his lungs. ‘It’s close to Alexandria’s borders. Could have been them, we know the Whisperers move in larger groups now.’ He chews on his lip before taking a long drag from his cigarette. ‘I wish they’d contact us. Alexandria, I mean. We haven’t heard from them in weeks now.’

Paul looks at him with sorrow in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything but places his hand in the crook of Daryl’s neck, squeezing tightly for just a moment to let him know that he feels the same. The long hair has been put up in a tight bun, but some strands have escaped anyway. The blue eyes are slightly bloodshot, which makes Daryl think that the scout isn’t sleeping well.

The younger man pushes the sleeves of his hoodie up, past his elbows. It’s warm out here.

Paul glances down.

Daryl catches the movements and holds his hands out, spreading his fingers apart, showing the man both sides of them. ‘Nothing new,’ he says. There are some faint marks on his skin left from his past. Discolorations where he used to end his cigarettes, scars where his knife had bitten into his skin. ‘See?’

‘I wasn’t - ‘ Paul starts but he falls silent almost immediately. He doesn’t like to lie. ‘I’m sorry.’

Daryl smokes his cigarette until he can taste the plastic of the filter. The butt tumbles from his fingers. He crushes it beneath his boot before it can roll into the tall grass beside the road. The last smoke spills over his lips as he touches Jesus’ elbow to attract his attention again. Keen blue eyes scan the tree line for a second. Then they flick up to meet Paul’s. ‘Thanks for lookin’ after me,’ he says.

Paul winces.

With a faint smirk playing around his lips, Daryl makes his way towards where Aaron is sitting on the ground. He doesn’t bother to take his backpack off. He just sits down and then shifts to the side so his head can come to rest on the man’s thigh. The conversations are just whispers around him. Aaron’s hand lands on his side, near his ribs, warm and comforting. He falls asleep while trying to keep up with what the man is saying.

Three hours later, Daryl walks down the dusty road that leads to Hilltop Colony. The black hoodie has disappeared into his backpack. It’s still early spring, but it’s like his body has to get used to the heat and sunshine all over again. Pearls of sweat drip down his sideburns. It doesn’t bother him. Warmer temperatures will bring the animals out again. He’s looking forward to go on a good hunting trip soon.

That thought elicits a wry smile. He’s returning from a different kind of hunting trip all together.

‘Are you looking forward to getting some sleep?’ Paul asks. He hasn’t been far from the teenager’s side for the past couple of days and it had taken Daryl biting into an apple to hide his grin when Paul popped up at his elbow again on the road. While he understands, it had started to annoy him, which caused him to rig the countdown yesterday so he ended up on a team with Aaron instead of Paul.

‘Lookin’ forward to give Kiss a big hug,’ Daryl says. He skips a step and grins at the man, ‘and I don’t need to sleep. I haven’t napped this much since I were a damn baby. Besides,’ he adjusts his baseball cap so he doesn’t have to meet Paul’s eye, ‘I gotta go see Harlan. Got a whole-ass _appointment_.’

Paul tries to look surprised. ‘Oh?’

Daryl sticks his foot out to kick Paul’s heels, making the man trip over his own feet. ‘Like you didn’t know that. _Oh_? Pfft. Fuck you.’

‘Maggie might have mentioned it,’ Paul says. The smile on his face fades quickly while he catches his balance again and looks at the teenager who is walking next to him. He seems unsure of what to say for a moment. ‘We didn’t think you’d actually go.’

‘Helps.’

The answer is so short that it causes Paul to flinch. ‘Yeah – no, I mean… good. I’m glad.’

Daryl hates that he can feel the tips of his ears burn. Now that his hair is getting longer again, he knows that they’ll poke out, too, which makes it even worse. Beth likes to tease him because of it all the time. He makes a conscious effort to uncurl his shoulders, let them relax, and hold his chin a bit higher. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at ya. Talkin’ to Harlan helps so I radioed him this morning if he could save me a spot today.’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘Probably shouldn’t radio a doctor when we’re out though – everyone thought I were dying or something.’

Paul snorts. ‘I thought you were sneaking out to talk to Taiwo.’

‘That too,’ Daryl says with a Cheshire grin. ‘He’s doing a run though. Mason asked him to deliver some medicine to one of the stations so I couldn’t reach him yesterday. Radio’s don’t work when he’s underground. He’ll probably be back by the time we get to Hilltop, Amaka said the other station wasn’t that far.’

Paul raises an eyebrow. ‘He just got back and he’s already on a run? I thought Mason wanted the twins to stay close.’

Daryl shrugs. ‘The city is safer; no way the Whisperer’s are snooping around the tunnels. You can’t really blame Mason for wanting them home. Maggie summoned me home, too.’

‘Well – yeah, but…’ Paul trails off and watches how one of the guards on their left veers off the road and into the bushes on the side. He returns seconds later, shaking his knife to get the old blood off of it. ‘Never mind.’ He glances at the younger man. ‘You did good this trip.’

‘No need to sound so surprised.’

‘I didn’t-‘

‘Good lord.’ Daryl aims another kick at the man but misses on purpose, ‘kiddin’. You gotta stop, okay? All the sneaky checking-up on me you’re doing? The tiptoeing ‘round me? It’s gettin’ on my damn nerves. Don’t you dare deny it,’ he says when Paul opens his mouth to object. ‘You checked my rations to see if I’m eating properly, man.’

Paul looks guilty. He scratches at his beard and busies himself with pulling his hair loose before tying it back up again, tightening the bun. ‘How did you know? I tied it back up exactly the same way.’

‘Your prints were around my pack.’

The guilt is replaced by awe.

‘Nah.’ Daryl snorts. ‘Emma saw you, ya idiot. She thought you had some mercy on me with the oatmeal, switched it out with for something else. She wanted me to share – she hates oatmeal too. You could have done that if you wanted to be helpful. That shit was gross.’

Paul laughs. ‘I believe Aaron offered to switch?’

‘I’m kidding. I’m a big boy. I can eat some gross oatmeal, but if he tells another story about Gracie’s poopy diapers while I’m eating it, I’m putting my knife in his back. For real this time. I swear he’s doing it on purpose.’

‘He is,’ Paul says with another huff of laughter. He hitches his pack higher onto his back. ‘And I’m sorry if I’m too overbearing. I worry about you.’

‘I know you do,’ Daryl says. There’s anger lurking beneath the surface. He can feel it tingling under his knuckles and up his spine but refuses to let it spill over. He supposes it’s his own doing that people are now scared to let him be alone after suffering a loss. He hopes to win trust back by showing his hands to the man, skin cracked due to the cold and harshness of their environment instead of his own doing. It’s why he braves leaving his weapons behind when he goes to greet Hershel early in the morning. Barefooted, in just his boxer-short, so Maggie can see that he’s keeping the promise he has made.

The sight of Hilltop’s high walls causes him to smile. People are working in the fields, horses drag plows through the earth and soldiers patrol the perimeter. The tips of their spears shimmer in the morning light. The blacksmith works day and night to provide the weapons. When they get closer, they’ll be able to hear the clanging of a hammer hitting the anvil.

For now, it’s drowned out by the creaking of the wood when the gate starts to open. Two guards push the doors aside to reveal Maggie. She has her hands on her hips, fingers brushing over the sheath of her knife and the leather of her belt. Her hair is getting longer. It’s tied up in a messy bun. One of Daryl’s bright red bandanas has been rolled up to keep some loose strands out of her face.

She’s smiling at the sight of her people returning, cheeks rosy from working in the sun yesterday and this morning. Dusty boots take hesitant steps on the gravel road, following the wobbly example of her son, who is right in front of her.

Hershel’s dark hair glimmers in the sunshine. He takes a small step, wobbles, but takes another to steady himself. Hands in front of him, so used to someone guiding him or having his little pushcart to help him along.

Daryl grips the bands of his backpack and grins, skips a step, eager to get to the gate while knowing he’s not supposed to break the ranks before then.

‘Go, man,’ Kal laughs from behind him.

He takes off running. Up the sloping hill, cutting through the low grass to get there quicker. The stomping of his boots causes Hershel to look up.

The little boy promptly falls onto his butt. He seems surprised by that development, first looking down at the ground beside him and then up at his approaching brother. Big, brown eyes fill with tears.

‘Hey Kiss!’ Daryl calls out as he slides over the last couple of feet to come face to face with his little brother. A cloud of dust whispers away and settles all around them. Daryl grins, booping Hershel’s button nose with his own. ‘Hey! Did you walk all that way? You did so good! Yeah!’ He laughs when Hershel giggles at his antics, ‘you did real good, man!’

Hershel holds out his hands.

With a grunt, Daryl lifts him into his lap and then gets up. ‘Oh, big hug! Thank you!’ He grins at Maggie. ‘Hi mom.’

She’s still smiling but there’s a sadness lingering around her eyes when she looks at him. Cold fingers stroke his cheek. ‘Hey Dare.’

She doesn’t ask how he is. She hasn’t since he got back from Alexandria with dark circles around his eyes. Not when he first staggered through the gates, on the verge of tears, confused and sad and so angry that any fight would do. Not the next morning when he ripped all of Rick’s portraits out of his notebooks and stuffed them into a drawer. She doesn’t need to ask, he supposes.

The rest of the group joins them. Most of the soldiers pass with just a nod at Maggie and a fond look at the two brothers, but Kal, Aaron and Paul stay behind. Maggie steps aside to talk to them, voices low and hushed so they don’t travel to Daryl.

He knows Maggie isn’t happy that he’s joining these excursions to try and find traces of the whisperers, but she understands that he’s a valuable asset to the team. He’s their best hunter, after all. She hadn’t objected much, not while he was in the room at least. He also knows that she’d asked Aaron and Jesus to keep an eye on him, to not let him out of their sight for too long.

The conversation is short. They haven’t found anything useful and he’s been on his best behavior the entire trip. With a final nod, Aaron leads the other two men back to Barrington House.

‘I’m glad you’re home,’ Maggie says when she puts a hand on Daryl’s shoulder to steer him into that direction as well.

‘How have things been here?’ he asks, not wanting to discuss the outing when there’s not much to say.

‘Quiet, in a way. Hershel missed you.’

Daryl hitches the boy onto his hip and lets him play with his necklaces. The tinkling noise they make always fascinates the boy. He leans into his chest to try and put them into his mouth, even though he knows he’s not allowed to.

‘No,’ Daryl says firmly, pulling the pendants away from the boy’s lips. The defiant look on the young face makes him laugh softly. It makes the boy look like a spitting image of his mother. He’s quickly distracted by the Washington armor, little fingers curiously plucking at the layers of leather that cover his brother’s chest.

‘Taiwo left a message for you,’ Maggie says. She reaches out to run a loving hand over Hershel’s dark hair. ‘It’s on the board. He arrived safely back home.’

‘Oh, great, thanks. Any news from the other communities?’

Maggie’s smile fades. ‘Not the one you want to hear from. I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl presses a kiss to Hershel’s temple. ‘Me too.’

They walk up the path together in silence. Daryl spots Dante out in the pen, where he’s training a horse that has been giving him trouble for weeks now. The horse had been used by Alexandria’s group during the battle with the whisperer group. The gunshots, screams and fire has left the horse traumatized and scared of people all over again. Others are talking about putting them down, but Dante doesn’t want to hear any of it. He is sure he can bring them back.

The door of the medical trailer opens and Harlan steps out onto the small staircase. He raises a hand when he spots the teenager and pretends to check a watch he isn’t wearing.

Daryl sighs and stops walking. He holds Hershel out to Maggie, who takes him automatically.

‘You just got back,’ she says. ‘You need to eat something – rest.’

‘Best get this over with,’ he answers as he puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans and heads over to the medical trailer.

It’s quiet in the trailer. There are no patients behind the curtains and none of the machines are currently running to monitor vitals. Harlan’s desk is messy. Several cups and glasses have been piled up in a corner. A big medical book is open on a page that shows a schematic drawing of a brain. Another book is propped up against the wall, important lines highlighted with a green marker. There are notes and notepads everywhere, pens and pencils and markers have been stuffed into a mason jar.

Daryl wonders whether the doctor’s still looking for some kind of cure whenever he doesn’t have any patients, or whether he’s just revising some knowledge. Sometimes Alex will be studying some part of anatomy at the desk, though he always leaves whenever Daryl arrives, hastily gathering his books and notes to go study somewhere else.

Daryl has dragged some dirt into the trailer. He feels bad about it, but supposes it can’t be helped. The rest of the floor is spotless, just like the rest of the trailer. Through the cracked-open window, he can hear voices from the people of his community. It soothes him, in a way.

‘Angry,’ he says when the silence stretches out for too long. ‘Just… _angry_.’

Harlan makes a soft noise of understanding. He is sitting on a small stool that swivels whenever he moves. There’s a notepad on his knee but he hardly ever writes anything down. Mostly he doodles in the margins, and Daryl suspects the doctor knows he finds it unsettling whenever the man looks at him for too long. It makes it easier to answer the questions when he can avoid eye contact. ‘Angry towards what or whom?’

‘Everything.’ Daryl plucks at a hole in his jeans. It’s on his right knee, though he has no idea how or when he ripped it. ‘Everyone.’

That makes Harlan look up. Daryl already knows what he’s going to say. He wants him to be specific, and honest. ‘Hershel too?’

Daryl rolls his eyes but smiles at the same time. ‘Nah, not him.’ The smile fades. His fingernails bite into his skin as he tries to grab a frayed thread and plucks at his skin instead. He stops with a guilty look at the doctor. ‘Myself, mostly.’

‘Why are you angry at yourself?’

‘Loads of reasons.’

Harlan makes that soft noise again and waits.

‘Maybe not even angry,’ Daryl says, voice soft as he inspects his boots to have something to do. Dirty fingernails pluck at pieces of dirt. They crumble onto the floor. It almost sound like soft rain, for a second. ‘More helpless. I don’t know what to do. I know Carl’s hurtin’ something fierce but he ain’t answerin’ my calls or letters, so I ain’t sure what to do now. He helped me when my dads died. Feels wrong not to help him, too.

‘And with the other stuff… I’m tryin’ to show everyone I’m doing a’right, but it looks like nobody’s buying it. Jesus were up my ass all trip long, and Aaron weren’t ever far either. I mean, I get it, right? _I get it_ , but I’m trying. I don’t know what else to do.’

‘You say they aren’t buying it,’ Harlan says. ‘That implies that you’re faking it.’

‘There’s no fixing me.’

Harlan’s eyebrows draw together. ‘What makes you say that?’

There’s frustration scraping on the inside of Daryl’s skin, sharp like razorblades and causing him to bleed red hot anger. ‘I don’t know why I’m even trying,’ Daryl says as he plants his boots firmly on the ground, opening up his body language like he doesn’t have anything to hide. ‘It’s one of those plays Ezekiel liked to organize. Hell, I knew everyone would be gossipin’ when I called you while we were on the road. I wanted it to get back to Maggie, wanted her to think I were makin’ a goddamn effort. Worked. She didn’t seem surprised when I headed over here.’

‘But you’re still here,’ Harlan says, ‘working on things. Isn’t that what matters?’

‘Is it?’ Daryl bounces back.

The older man gives him a small smile. ‘You tell me, Daryl.’

He gets up and wanders through the room. The schematic brain intrigues him. He wonders whether one of those Latin names scribbled on the page indicates where exactly something is broken inside of him. Maybe, way back when, someone could have fixed him with a sharp scalpel, just cutting away the bad parts until he was normal again. Until his thoughts didn’t linger on that scalpel for so long.

The bed is made, ready for another patient. He remembers sleeping there with Taiwo, Beth’s singing almost a fever dream by now, remembers the blue flowers on his nightstand in the morning. The way Enid had burst into tears when he’d shuffled out of the trailer two days later, blinking against the bright sunlight but so alive. How Carl had made a bad joke about matching scars with a shaky voice after a tight hug.

With one finger, he pushes the curtain away from the window. Maggie is sitting on the stairs of Barrington House while Hershel plays in the mud near the drainpipe. His mother doesn’t seem to notice that dirty fingers come dangerously close to a tiny mouth. She stares at the ground in front of her. Shoulders hunched and face drawn.

‘Daryl?’

Harlan’s quiet question draws him away from the window. He grabs his pack and shrugs it onto his shoulders. ‘Thanks Doc.’

Surprise flickers over the doctor’s face. ‘You’re leaving? Already?’

The sky is blue above him. Little wisps of clouds drift past. It’s a beautiful day.

Daryl’s mouth tastes like ashes. There aren’t any cigarettes left in the silver case he’d found in the pocket of a fancy looking walker. He has stubbed the buts out right beside him. For a moment, he’d thought about putting them out in Merle’s grave, knowing that his brother would have had a laugh about that, but he doubts that others in the community would find it just as funny.

Besides, he doesn’t want one of them to get blown onto Glenn’s grave and defile it.

He turns his head to the right. There are wild flowers growing on Glenn’s final resting place. He doesn’t know them by name, but he’s sure he’s seen them by the side of the roads. Small, delicate flowers with shockingly bright colors. They suit him.

Merle’s grave is too fresh still to have any flowers growing there. It doesn’t have a headstone yet, or any type of marker at all. He supposes he should make one but can’t imagine that Merle would have cared either way.

He watches the sky and doesn’t say much. There’s nothing to say that Merle and Glenn don’t already know. That he’s home safe, that he’s sad, that he’s worried about his brother. That he is so, so sorry. He doesn’t need to say it. They’ve heard it all before.

Footsteps in the grass, and then a shadow is cast over him.

‘The first time I saw Rick,’ Maggie says as she kneels down in the grass, fingertips touching the edge of her husband’s grave, ‘he was carrying Carl in his arms after he’d been shot. He was running through the fields to get to the farm. To get help. I remember watching him run.’ She looks up at her son, lying in between two graves, ‘I thought he wouldn’t make it.’

Daryl sits up. ‘First time I saw him, I was tryin’ to kick the shit out of a deer.’

Despite everything, Maggie laughs. A hand comes up to cover the smile and Daryl misses it as soon as its gone. He’s not the only one mourning. He has heard her when the final candle had been blown out, the quiet sobs, the letters ripped up in anger at the injustice of it all, the scraping sound of when she’d taken the picture frame of their family portrait down.

‘It were dead already,’ Daryl says with a small grin. ‘Weren’t tryin’ to dropkick a deer or nothing.’

‘No? That sounds like something you would try to do.’ The lingering smile on her face says that she’s teasing. He hates how quickly it’s replaced by regret and sadness when she finally looks at him. ‘Before the war you said we were a team. You and me. That we should be honest with each other.’

Daryl straightens his back and adjusts his baseball cap. ‘That’s right.’

‘While you were gone, I went down to the cells to see Negan.’

Heat rushes through his system like a tidal wave. It leaves him feeling strangely cold while sweat trickles down his sideburns and neck. He tries not to show his emotions, though he’s not sure what he’s even trying to hide. Surprise. Shame. Fear. His voice doesn’t waver when he speaks, but it still sounds off. ‘Why’s that?’

‘I just had to know.’

‘Know _what_?’ Anger makes the word too sharp. He regrets it and bows his head, plucks at the laces of his boots and avoids eye contact as an apology.

‘You’re not talking,’ Maggie says. ‘You’re not _saying_ anything. Not to me, at least. I had to know whether you’d gone down there to talk to him instead.’

‘Could have asked me, I would’ve told you the truth.’ Daryl shakes his head and looks at the wall. ‘Yeah, I went down there to talk to him. I got back from Alexandria late afternoon, everyone was so careful – I didn’t want to start nothing. Figured if I’d bring Rick up, everyone would be upset again so thought it’d be best if I just went to bed early ‘nd everything. I was scared of sleeping though. Didn’t want to dream nothing, so I stayed up until everyone was asleep.

‘I snuck out – went down there. I wanted to talk to him so badly. I don’t know why I’m always so…’ He sucks on his teeth. ‘’s stupid.’

Maggie pushes some strands of her hair behind her ear. ‘What did you tell him?’

‘Everything.’

She nods. ‘And what did he say?’

Daryl wishes he hadn’t smoked all of his cigarettes earlier. ‘Y’know, way back at the quarry – my dad once busted me catching some squirrels for the group. Did Glenn ever tell you about that?’

Maggie shakes her head with a small frown. ‘No, but what-‘

‘They were real hungry, that’s all I knew,’ Daryl says. ‘So I caught them a couple, weren’t even enough to feed all of them of course but I was just trying to help out. My dad found out and went to town on my back with that fuckin’ belt. Later, some other shit went down and Glenn dragged me to that RV Dale used to drive. Made me take off my shirt, helped me clean the wounds up. Know what Glenn said?’

‘No, Dare.’

‘That ain’t how you love. First time he said it but certainly not the last, and my dumb ass didn’t _really_ get it until last week.’ Daryl works his jaw and looks at Maggie. ‘I opened Negan’s cell and went in. Cried like a little bitch on his shoulder while I told him about Rick. Told him everything. How it happened. That goddamn bag. Michonne. Carl. How sad I were. How sorry.’ Daryl scoffs. ‘You know what that asshole whispers in my ear?’

She shakes her head.

‘ _Kill them all_.’

Maggie closes her eyes. A tear slowly makes its way over her cheek.

‘He went on and on about how I could do it. How I could grab some weapons from the armory, sneak out at night – hell I’ve done it a thousand times before, right? I’m a good tracker; I would have found them eventually and then I could take them out, one by one. Slice their throats. Borrow their skins to blend in and get closer to Beta. He’d never see it coming.’ Daryl lifts an eyebrow. ‘I could do it. Easy. Because I’m the little prince of the Sanctuary. I’m his boy.’

Maggie shakes her head.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl mutters and puts his chin on his bend knee. ‘Do you know how fucked up your plan has to be for my broken-ass brain to go _; something ain’t right about that_.’ He glances at Maggie, ‘he keeps sayin’ I’m his boy, his little prince, right? And he’d send me to my death with a grin ‘nd nudge. Ain’t no doubt he believes he loves me something fierce,’ Daryl mutters as he plucks at his jeans again. ‘That ain’t how you love, though.’

Maggie scoots closer to him as she can take his baseball cap off. She brushes the longer strands of dark hair out of his eyes.

‘I’d do it for you,’ Daryl says before she can speak. ‘If you asked me to. I’d do anything for you.’

‘I know,’ she says while tracing his cheek.

‘I know you wouldn’t ask though,’ he says with a small smile. ‘Before we went out to meet Carl ‘nd Enid at the outpost, Paul said something about Negan ‘nd me. He said he were scared I wasn’t as in charge as I thought I was. I didn’t really get that either, at the time.’ He nods, ‘I get it now.’

Maggie’s warm hand comes to rest on the back of his neck. ‘They would have been so proud of you. Glenn, and Shane. Rick, too. Maybe even Will,’ she says with a squeeze and smile, ‘if you don’t mention that you’re still helping those damn city slickers.’

The hallway is dark. The old rug swallows his footsteps whole as he walks over it. It used to be an expensive item, dark red and hand-made. Way back, people had argued that they shouldn’t be using the treasures of Barrington house. That they should be preserved in dark rooms, behind glass cases. Daryl thinks about that often when he drinks out of one of the silver cups, or trips over an ornate chair and kicks it out of his way. Sometimes he thinks he should be more careful with them. Other times a cup is just a damn cup to him, no matter the material.

There are still paintings hanging from the walls. Some depicts the country side, other people or even whole families that used to live in Barrington house. The big one with the horse and captain has been relocated to another room per Maggie’s orders. His artwork is on her wall now. Rough sketches of the farm, of the prison. The big one where he’d attempted to draw his whole family but simply ran out of room after a while. Glenn. Hershel. Shane. Carol. Sasha.

A door opens on his left just after he passed it. It makes him jump and spin around, hiding his hands behind his back.

‘Daryl, there you are!’ Dante steps out into the hallway. He’s smiling wide but it seems fake and fragile. ‘Where have you been?’

‘The fuck do you care?’ Daryl asks as he slowly backs up.

‘I –‘ Dante’s eyebrows shoot up and he takes a step back, too. ‘I was just asking, I didn’t mean anything by it. Sorry.’

‘Is Maggie there?’

‘No, she’s having a meeting with Jesus and Kal. She should be back any minute.’

‘Oh.’ Daryl fidgets, rubs his chin on his shoulder so he won’t have to move his hands from behind his back. ‘Okay. So… we just chattin’ now?’

Dante shrugs. ‘I guess… How are you?’

‘Fine. Look, I got other shit to do, so…’

‘Oh – yeah, of course. Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you.’

‘Whatever,’ Daryl mutters. He wobbles on the balls of his feet and waits. When the man doesn’t move, he frowns. ‘So you’re gonna go back inside or what?’

‘Erm… yeah. I guess so.’

‘You caught him doing something he shouldn’t be doing.’ Maggie’s voice comes floating up the staircase. Seconds later, her bare feet pad up the spiral and she shows up holding a stack of papers in one hand, Hershel leaning against her other shoulder. ‘That’s why he’s being so rude.’

Daryl chews on the inside of his cheek. ‘Ain’t bein’ rude.’

Maggie gives him a stern look. ‘ _Right_. What’s that behind your back?’

‘Nothing.’

‘ _Right_. You know a funny thing?’ she unloads her papers onto Dante and rubs a soothing hand over her son’s back. ‘Ellie just came to see us. She said every radio had been accounted for before dinner – they’d all been turned in after the scouting mission. And then she checked them after dinner again to make sure they’re charging and ready to go tomorrow morning, and guess what…’

Daryl narrows his eyes. ‘What?’

‘One is missing. Do you know anything about that, Dare?’

‘Good lord, fine,’ the teenager says with a sigh as he drops his hands to his sides. One of them is curled around a radio. ‘I took one. They don’t need all of them tomorrow morning, ain’t that many people going out. ‘sides, I would have returned it anyway.’

‘You should have asked Ellie, or whoever was in the control room whether you could borrow one. You don’t wait around until they have to pee and then sneak in to steal one.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘Ain’t stealin’ nothing.’

‘You _ask_ ,’ Maggie says sternly. ‘You don’t _take_ those.’

‘So now I gotta ask permission for everything I do around here? Why’s everyone all up my ass about everything? Can’t go on a damn pee break myself without someone asking where the hell I’ve been! I’m fucking sick of it!’

Dante looks uncomfortable. He glances at Maggie, ‘shall I take Hershel inside or..?’

‘No,’ Maggie says firmly before turning back to the teenager. ‘People care about you. What’s that thing Carol used to say to you? Learn to live with the love? Yeah, do that instead of snapping at people who are just trying to be nice to you. Everyone knows you’re going through a tough time. We _all_ are, Dare. So I’m sorry, but the rules still apply. For you, and everyone else. You ask Ellie whether you can have a radio, or you keep your sticky fingers to yourself.’

‘Fine,’ Daryl grouses. ‘Whatever.’

‘Good. So what do you need the radio for?’

‘I wanted to have phone sex with my boyfriend but I ain’t feelin’ it no more,’ he snarls before throwing the radio on the side table next to him. The clank causes Hershel to startle and burst into sudden tears. Just a second later, Gracie wakes up in the room next to them. Daryl winces but quickly turns on his heels to storm off. When he opens his bedroom door, he can hear Aaron opening his as well and asking what’s going on. He closes the door with a bang.

He sits down on his bed.

It takes Maggie only a couple of minutes to join him, Hershel still on her arm. Mouth a thin line of disapproval. The silence between them stretches until she breaks it. ‘Daryl…’ She doesn’t sound angry, there’s just that cutting disappointment that will bleed and fester inside of him for days.

The teenager pulls his feet up to hide behind his knees. A little ball of shame and anger, shaking fingers that so desperately wanting to scrape over his temples and cheeks to leave burning stripes in their wake. ‘I’ll apologize to Dante tomorrow.’

‘Yes. You will.’ Her features soften fractionally. ‘What’s going on with you?’

He peeks at her through his fringe. ‘Ain’t doing so hot.’

‘I know.’ She walks over and sits down on the bed beside him. ‘It’s okay to be mad – just don’t be mad at us. And it’s okay to be sad, Dare.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah,’ Maggie echoes. She waits for him to say something else, but there’s nothing else on his mind. A tentative smile appears on her face when she leans slightly forward to catch his eye. ‘I have the graveyard shift on the wall – if I get up, Hershel will wake the whole house up. Can he stay with you tonight?’ The smile grows. ‘Or do you want to have phone sex with Tai first still?’

‘Good lord,’ Daryl says with a moan as he lets his forehead hit his knees. ‘I didn’t – we don’t – I mean… _no_. I was just sayin’ something stupid ‘cause I was pissed, we don’t… I talked to Tai earlier. _About other stuff_ … things, you know? That ain’t why I took the radio.’ He glances at his mom with red ears poking out from under his baseball cap. ‘I was kinda hoping Carl changed his mind and… If he calls, I wanna be the one picking up, you know?’

Maggie leans closer and kisses the side of the cap. ‘You’re a good brother.’ She transfers Hershel to his lap and leaves the room. She comes back just when Daryl gently puts the boy on Taiwo’s side of the bed. With a soft thud, she puts the radio on his nightstand. ‘Good night, Dare.’

He salutes her half-heartedly. ‘Night mom.’

Her footsteps fade as he pulls his boots off. Stashes his guns on a safe place where Hershel won’t be able to grab hold of them, puts the knife right next to the radio, safely strapped into the sheath. The clothes end up in a pile right next to his bed. He hops in and smiles when Hershel unconsciously starts to crawl closer to his body warmth in his sleep.

‘Mom isn’t as sneaky as she thinks she is, man,’ Daryl says as he watches his brother with a fond expression on his face. ‘You sleep through anything, don’t you?’ He grins and nuzzles the dark hair for a moment. ‘You’re by far my favorite suicide watch-method though. We all got jobs to do, that’s what your grandpa used to say. That one is yours, huh?’


	2. Disappointment

* * *

The radio crackles and Daryl freezes.

A report from one of the Kingdom scouts comes in about the drop-off with Oceanside, which has been successful apparently. There’s a short exchange of pleasantries. Daryl doesn’t recognize any of the voices but the call signs sound vaguely familiar. A scout from one of the crossroads advises them about the way back and then everything is silent again.

Daryl waits another heartbeat before tightening the bolt with a grunt. There’s oil on his fingers and some bio-fuel soaked into his jeans from when he spilled some while filling up. He crawls out from under his motorcycle and runs his hand over the seat. The leather has been warmed by the sun.

‘You weren’t at training this morning,’ Paul says by way of greeting as he comes over. ‘I could have used your help.’

Daryl turns around, fingertips falling away from his vehicle. ‘Didn’t think it would be such a good idea. I would’ve enjoyed gettin’ my ass handed to me a bit too much.’ Something on the edge of Barrington House catches his eye. A shadow against the brickwork. When he glances back at Paul, he sees that the color has drained from his face. ‘What?’

‘Don’t say things like that.’

‘Do you want me to lie? Fine. I overslept. Sorry,’ he wipes the oil from his fingers with his rag. ‘Listen – I’ve got to go. Catch you later.’

‘Daryl.’

‘What?’ The Dixon asks as his gaze flickers back to the side of Barrington House again. ‘We’ve been on each other’s lip for a week, and now you wanna have a chat? You can’t like me _that_ much, man. So either I’m in trouble or you’re doing a goddamn welfare check on my ass. I didn’t do nothing wrong and I’m fine,’ he holds his hands up in surrender and starts to back up. ‘So can I go now?’

‘Fine,’ Paul says. A bitterness laces the word as he starts walking the other way.

Daryl pretends it doesn’t bother him. He heads over to Barrington house but cuts to the right and then rounds the corner. The doors leading down to the cellar are open. He can see the top of the stairs. The dark wood that’s getting worn down by people going up and down to bring food to their only prisoner.

Anger rushes through his veins as he grits his teeth and storms down the stairs. Boots stomp on the wood until he jumps down to hit the flat stone. It’s early in the morning so nobody has bothered to light the torches yet. Faint sunlight floods in through the single window in the cell. Some of it is blocked out because Negan is leaning against the bars.

Big and imposing as always. The black hair cut short instead of slicked back, his beard grayer than he would like. He’s wearing a blue pair of overalls that doesn’t really fit him and nobody has taken the effort to find him some shoes after taking his leather boots from him. It makes him less likely to run. Dirty white socks scrape over the stone floor when he turns his head to look at who just came down.

‘My, my… Little prince. Oh, I’ve _missed_ you.’ Negan’s fingers curl around the bars as he gets even closer to them, grinning broadly now. ‘I was getting mighty scared you weren’t going to come see your old man after your little _adventure_ ,’ he wiggles his eyebrows, ‘but here you are.’

Daryl ignores him.

Lydia is leaning against the brickwork right next to the bars. The dark hair is stringy and falling over his shoulders. There’s filth on her forehead and hands, some on the clothes she has borrowed from Beth. Long sleeves despite the temperature. There’s a knife on her belt but it’s too small to be of any use outside of the walls.

‘He ain’t your friend.’

Negan starts to laugh. ‘Ahw, come _on_ , Little prince. Be nice.’

Lydia glances between the two men but doesn’t say anything.

‘I’m serious,’ Daryl tells her. ‘The fuck are you doing down here, talkin’ to him?’

‘Maybe if you got your shit together up there,’ Negan says, voice louder now that he’s being ignored, ‘she wouldn’t have to come down here. Oh, you _really_ didn’t notice? Please,’ he scoffs when Daryl’s forehead creases. ‘Someone she used to hang with cut Rick Grimes’ head clean off his neck and you think that’s going down well in this little paradise you’ve got going on here? You like to pretend she doesn’t exist. Your boytoy and his dick brigade left. Someone’s walking around thinking he’s got ironclad balls.’ Negan leans to the side and pulls Lydia’s sleeve up. Black and blue on her pale skin.

She hisses at him and smacks his hand away before pulling her sleeve down again.

‘There are rules,’ Negan says softly as he looks at Daryl. ‘You know that. Hell, you want to rule this world? You better start opening your eyes to things you don’t want to see, boy.’

‘Ain’t ruling nothing.’

‘You won’t be a mere prince forever.’ Negan’s smile is oddly proud. ‘Somebody’s got to take that crown.’

‘We ain’t the same.’ Daryl says as he walks over and checks whether the door to Negan’s cell is still locked. It is. He reaches between the bars to clasp their hands together.

‘All grown up now? No more hugs?’ Negan asks with a huff of laughter but he still claps their hands together, his bigger fingers curled around Daryl’s. ‘We’re going for firm handshakes now?’

The teenager grips his hand tightly and yanks it back, causing Negan’s forehead to hit the bars. He sucks on his teeth before looking at Lydia. ‘Get out.’

‘Jesus fuckity fuck _fuck_ that hurt,’ Negan curses as he puts his hand on his forehead and stumbles away from the bars to sit down on his bed. ‘Ohw. God _damn_!’

Lydia streaks past Daryl with her head down. Footsteps so light on the staircase that the hunter can barely hear them.

‘Shame, I was tryin’ to break your nose. Magna taught me how but I guess I gotta practice some more.’

‘That gloomy bitch? Fucking figures,’ Negan grumbles. There’s a red blotch on his forehead. He makes it worse by rubbing at it before he glares at the teenager. ‘You’re a right asshole sometimes. Hey!’ The glare disappears when Daryl turns on his heels to leave too. ‘Wait. Look,’ he gets up again, hands raised in faked innocence. ‘About the girl... she was helping out the kitchen crew with their least favorite chore,’ he kicks at the empty plate in his cell. ‘She’s just trying to fit in.’

‘Well, that ain’t ever gonna happen if she hangs around with you, now is it?’ Daryl doesn’t wait for a witty reply about how it had worked just fine for him. Instead, he takes the staircase two at the time. Lydia is gone but the laundry drying at the back of Barrington house gently sways on the lines even though there’s no wind. He heads over, ducks under some sheets to find the girl sitting with her back against the house, arms curled around her legs.

Now that he’s standing in front of her, he’s not quite sure of what to say. He’d tried to make an effort by introducing her to his group, but all of that went to hell when Beta lifted Rick’s head out of that bag. It’s not her fault. She had nothing to do with it. He knows that. Still, though, he can’t usually bring himself to be nice to her or even look her way.

She knows it, too. She had become friends with the Washington group though she never hung out with them when Daryl was around. Once they left, she’d disappeared from his radar entirely. She was probably avoiding him.

He’d been glad about it until now.

‘What happened to your arm?’

Lydia scowls at the ground. ‘What do you care?’

He swallows the cruel _I don’t_ with difficulty. ‘If someone’s giving you shit, you should tell Maggie.’

‘Yeah, because she’ll give a fuck.’

Daryl winces and puts his hands in his pockets. ‘Paul then – Jesus, I mean.’

‘It’ll just make it worse.’

He suspects she’s right. Complaining to teachers about being bullied never helped either but turning up at home with a split lip had caused Merle to drop him off the next day with a couple of buddies. Roaring engines and leather vests, skulls leering at a bunch of third graders who’d cowered at the sight of it all. They hadn’t bothered him anymore after that, though nobody had dared or wanted to ever be his friend either.

‘He gets me.’

Daryl frowns down at the girl. ‘What? Negan?’

Lydia nods.

‘Because he knows what to say? Yeah, he’s good at that. Hell, you tell him you wore one of those skin masks and he’ll tell you how awesome that is. You murder someone right in front of him and he’ll laugh and call you a badass. One of the only people who’ll look at you without that fucking disgust or distrust lurking somewhere in their eyes, right? Hmm,’ Daryl nods and adjusts his baseball cap. ‘Yeah, I liked that too, but trust me; he doesn’t _get it_ because he doesn’t give a shit.’

‘He cares about me.’

Daryl snorts. ‘He cares about himself, nothing and nobody else.’

‘He cares about you, too! He talks about you _all the time_!’ Lydia objects. ‘He wants to know what you’re up to. When you’ll be back.’

‘Hmm-hmm. And you tell him all about how I’m on patrol, where I’m headed and how long I’ll be gone, right? It’s _information_ he wants. He don’t give a shit about me. Am I visiting the Kingdom? Is Alexandria opening its borders yet? He’s always prying about Washington. You best not be telling him shit, or I swear to God, girl.’

Lydia looks up. ‘He wants to know about your nightmares. He worries.’

Daryl grinds his teeth together until his jaw hurts. ‘Let him rot there,’ he advises. ‘He’s nothing but trouble.’

The girl shrugs. ‘He’s nice to me.’

‘Bet he is,’ Daryl says, but he’s been playing this game for a long time. ‘Bet he was real sorry about your mom, too, right? Hmm. Let you cry on his shoulder. Always there to talk to you. Weren’t like all of us, right? We fucking hated her but he thought she were pretty cool, I bet. A badass. Has he given you a nickname yet?’

Lydia narrows her eyes.

‘I liked that,’ Daryl muses. ‘Made me feel real special.’

‘No.’

‘Hmm.’ Daryl grabs a cigarette from his pocket and lifts his eyebrows. ‘Oh – did he tell you he’s the one who cut off your mom’s head in the first place?’

Lydia’s eyes grow wide and her mouth slowly falls open as color drains from her face.

A flame bursts from Daryl’s zippo lighter. He inhales the smoke. ‘Yeah - thought not. Done told you; he ain’t your friend,’ he says before walking away.

‘ _Who the hell do you think you are_?’

When he looks back, Lydia is scrambling to get on her feet. Pale skin now blotchy and eyes wide with rage. No doubt her fingernails are digging into the palms of her hands but he can’t quite tell. Her fists shake with rage though. Deep heaving breaths. Big steps forward until she gets too close and falters, maybe realizing that they’re the same height, or that he is, in fact, armed.

He lifts an eyebrow and lets the cigarette rest in the corner of his mouth.

‘You think you’re so much better than him!’ She’s screaming, voice deeper and lower than he’d expected. There are tears in her eyes. ‘You just dumped me here and pretended you’d saved me – _I don’t want to be here_! Everyone hates me here! He was _the only one_ who’d still talk to me, why would you ruin that? You’ve already won!’

Daryl glares at her. ‘The hell do you mean?’

She shakes her head and her lips form a firm line. Tears slowly drip down her cheeks but she ignores them. ‘I never wanted this to happen – to anyone, and I’m _sorry_!’

Before, he had told her it wasn’t her fault. He can’t bring himself to open his mouth this time.

‘He was my friend. My _only_ friend. Do you know what that’s like? Living here while everyone wants to see your head on a spike?’ she asks while wiping her tears away. ‘It wasn’t so bad before. People were trying to be nice to me because you were. But now? Everyone _hates_ me.’

He lets the smoke roll around in his mouth, blowing it up in the blue sky. It lingers around him for a second before disappearing.

‘You think you know everything,’ she says, her voice softer now. ‘The little prince,’ she scoffs. ‘I thought you were so… special, before. I’d heard all the stories. Every legend about you.’ She looks him up and down and snorts. ‘Turns out you’re just like me.’

The cigarette lands in the grass and he draws his knife without thinking about it. Slow, measured steps towards her. Lydia backs up. There’s fear in her eyes, but only when her back hits Barrington House and she can’t escape him anymore. ‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘Those pathetic patrol missions you’re going on? You’re not even trying to find him! He killed your brother and he murdered Rick, and you’re just letting him go!’

Daryl narrows his eyes.

She’s eyeing his knife. ‘You’re too scared to do anything about it! _He killed them!_ ’

‘Stop trying to piss me off,’ Daryl advises softly. He puts his knife away and reaches forward. With a sharp tug, he takes the small knife off her belt and pockets it. A lingering look that finally catches her eye. ‘Might be fucking trash,’ he says, ‘but at least I did that myself. You want it so bad? _Hold your own damn knife_. I ain’t doing it for you.’

Paul is always reading books. The trailer is sparsely decorated. There are hardly any personal items on any of the shelves or hooks and the few items that are displayed could easily fit into a backpack should the scout finally decide to leave. The only items weighing him down would have been the books.

There are couple of them on a shelf near the kitchen table. Two stacks balance on the edge of his desk, but most of the time Daryl will catch Paul browsing the library of Barrington house. Those books will appear on a pile next to the scout’s bed. One of them has gotten high enough to function as his bedside table.

As far as Daryl can tell, Paul doesn’t have a specific genre that he likes to read. The teenager is lying on the bed on his belly, one finger trailing over the spines of the books to read the titles. There are fiction books and memoirs, a country novel and a fantasy trilogy. A book about legislation, the words too big for Daryl to try to decipher at the moment. One part of an encyclopedia. A children’s book. A manual of some kind. Someone’s journal. A volume with a faded title.

With a sigh, Daryl curls up on the bed again. His boots have been placed under the bed. One arm disappears under the pillow as he buries his nose in it. Hooded blue eyes glance over at Paul, who is reading a letter from Oceanside for what must be the tenth time. Hunched over in his chair, elbows resting on his knees and with a worried crease in his forehead.

‘You never call me Dare.’

It takes the scout a couple of seconds to react. His gaze lingers on the paper before snapping up to meet the younger man’s eyes. ‘What? Oh. No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Habit,’ Paul says.

‘But why?’

‘It seemed more appropriate at the time, I guess. I wanted to keep some… distance, in a way.’ He leans back in his chair. One leg comes up so his ankle can rest on his knee now. He cocks his head to the side, ‘you never call me Jesus.’

‘Habit,’ Daryl says with a small smile. ‘Everyone called you Jesus. I didn’t want to be like everyone else to you.’

Paul shoots him a smile back. ‘Fair enough.’

Daryl shifts so he’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He knows that the scout is still watching him, but he’s gotten so used to the gaze by now that he doesn’t mind. ‘You hate it when people call me little prince.’

‘Not as much as I used to.’

‘Yeah. Same.’ He closes his eyes. ‘Can I sleep here tonight?’

‘No.’

Daryl’s left eye cracks open. ‘You expectin’ company or something?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Well, spot’s taken,’ the younger man grouses.

Paul laughs softly. ‘Maggie wants you to sleep inside Barrington house.’

‘Maggie wants to make sure I ain’t slitting my wrists, is what you mean. Wouldn’t mess up your bed with all that. Promise. Smells too good to do that.’ There’s a soft noise, but before Daryl can open his eyes to check what it is, a book hits his side. It tumbles onto the bed next to him. He laughs. ‘Fine. Hope your hot date appreciates it at least. They should-‘ he falls silent for a second. ‘What’s going on outside?’

‘Nothing,’ Paul says but he gets up anyway. The curtains of the trailer windows are always closed to keep out the sun and heat. ‘It’s just the front gate, maybe they’re calling it a day early to-‘ he pushes the curtain aside and doesn’t finish his sentence. ‘Put your boots on.’

Daryl stomps them on and quickly laces them up. The baseball cap slides over his hair to keep it out of his face. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Paul says. The curtain falls back in place. ‘Everyone’s heading inside. Kal’s at the gate. Let’s go.’

The bright sunshine causes Daryl to squint when he steps outside. Way back in the day, Eugene had once given him a lecture about how to properly wear a baseball cap so it would prevent such an occurrence. He’d been easy enough to silence with a glare though.

Many of the workers who’d been tending the fields just outside of the gates are rushing back in. Some throw worried glances over their shoulders but they all listen to Kal’s instructions to keep moving so they’ll be able to close the gate shortly.

Paul reaches the head of security first. ‘What’s wrong?’

Kal’s forehead is marred as he looks out over the field. A small group of soldiers are taking a cluster of walkers out. Spears get rammed into eye sockets as the group moves as a team. Even from this distance, they can hear them remind each other; ‘ _watch their hands_!’

‘It’s just a couple of ‘em,’ Daryl says, ‘why’d you call everyone inside?’

‘They won’t stop coming,’ Kal says. ‘It started as a trickle this morning; four, five at the time, but the clusters are getting bigger.’ He looks down at his spear and tightens his hold on it, ‘walkers don’t usually come straight for us.’

‘Unless someone sends them here.’ Paul eyes the tree line. ‘What do you suggest we do?’

‘It turned from a trickle to a stream; we’re going to need more people if they keep on coming. Let’s rally the soldiers, work in shifts,’ Kal says with a decisive nod. ‘We’ll hold them off.’

Daryl starts running.

‘ _Hey_!’ Two haunting footsteps and then someone yanks him back by his arm. Paul’s breathing has quickened, eyes wider now. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘I’m gonna help ‘em out!’ Daryl says as he shakes his arm free to gesture to the group by the tree line that’s already getting ready for another wave. ‘Kal’s getting the others but they look dead on their feet already. They need help, man. The fuck you holding me back for?’

‘You should stay back – get Maggie. Help Kal to set things up. I will help the others.’ Paul pushes at his arm to get him to move back. ‘ _Go_!’

The world seems to spin without him as he watches how Paul runs down the path to get to the walkers and their friends. It’s terrible that he understands why Paul would want to keep him away from a fight.

The last time he’d fought, he’d lost. The scar still splits his face in half; more ragged than the ones one his back. People pretend not to notice it by not ever looking him in the eye again. That cuts deeper than that saw had done; it reminds him of his own failures. He’d gone down there to avenge his brother and it ended up costing so much.

It’s what keeps happening; him failing and then other people paying the price. A violent cycle of him trying to get back at everything and everyone. He’d tried to break it by obeying the rules set out; stay inside the walls, do your chores, answer to Maggie. So he tracks when they tell him to track and he stays put when they tell him to do so.

Daryl watches how Paul kicks a walker with such force that it smashes against a tree. The knife that follows almost splits the skull in two.

It doesn’t feel like him; sitting around and waiting until some doctor decides that he has mourned properly and that he’s all better now. It’s never going to be any better, but it will be bearable one day, he knows. But in the meanwhile; he’s _useless_.

He knows that Lydia was right. Years ago he would have argued that nobody looks at him for nothing; but times have changed. He changed them by stepping up; representing the New World while meeting new allies, negotiating deals between communities, leading their people in times of trouble.

People _are_ looking at him; their little prince.

He hasn’t been ashamed of what they saw for a long time now, but it’s a familiar feeling that’s creeping back in. Hiding behind the walls, behind Maggie, behind the crushing loss of Merle and Rick. Hiding behind wanting to be seen as normal. Normal as not to worry Maggie, or Taiwo, or Paul. Normal so people would leave him alone and not dig too deep.

He’s never been normal before though. And as he watches how Paul deals with the last walker, he wonders why he would start now.

The world feels more treacherous now, but that’s his own doing. The knife is his sheath isn’t balanced the way he likes it, so it always feels foreign in his hand. It doesn’t bear the flowers, it doesn’t hold the promise. They’d been a gift, in a way, but nothing special like his armor had been.

He misses the familiar weight of his bow. He hasn’t carried one since he lost his to the whisperers; hasn’t bothered to put in a request for a new one even though he knows that people would be happy to supply him with it. They’d feel better about him having one. Safer. He hasn’t put in the request because deep down he believes he doesn’t deserve one.

Right now, it feels like he’s doing the rest of his community a disservice though. They deserve him with a bow in his hands. They deserve to be able to count on him.

He starts running. Slowly at first but picking up speed as the road slopes down towards the trees. The soldiers are standing in a tight circle, hands on their knees as they catch their breath. It’s Paul who hears him coming first.

‘Daryl, go back-‘

‘I ain’t leaving,’ Daryl says as he puts his hand on a soldier’s shoulder and nods at another. He draws his knife. ‘Heads up, Paul. Second wave in comin’.’

The onslaught doesn’t end. By the time the sun starts to set, a group of people needs to come and clear the bodies. They’ve started to pile up which causes tired soldiers to stumble over hands and arms and rotting legs. The blacksmith pulls so hard at an arm while trying to move a body that it tears off. Others manage to roll the bodies over so they at least resemble a heap and the main road remains clear for the people fighting.

Dante walks over to the soldiers with a torch in his hand. He looks at Daryl. ‘Maggie needs you inside.’

‘I’m good,’ the younger man promises as he wipes sweat and blood off of his face.

‘You need a break. Drink some water. You’ve been out here for hours – Kal’s ready to rotate back in.’

Daryl bites on the inside of his cheek.

Dante steps closer to him, lowering his voice. ‘I’m going to burn the bodies.’

Daryl wipes his nose on the back of hand. He looks down at his boots before squinting up at the other man. ‘I’m sorry I was rude to you. Earlier. When you caught me stealin’ the radio. Weren’t right. Sorry.’

The look on Dante’s face softens. He puts a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, hesitantly, carefully, but he squeezes tightly. ‘Get inside,’ he urges with a gentle push.

With a small nod, Daryl starts to walk back towards the gate. The night air causes the sweat to cool on his body. His hair is drenched, as well as his shirt. Darkened walker-blood coats his forearms and hands. It makes his fingers stick together. With every step he takes, he can feel the adrenaline in his system decreasing. Suddenly, he’s tired. His right shoulder hurts from getting slammed into a tree earlier. He miss-stepped on the uneven forest floor and his ankle twinges when he puts his weight on it now.

The gate is already open. Kal and Maggie meet him half-way.

‘No,’ Daryl says when he sees that Maggie is wearing armor. ‘No – you can stay inside, I’ll go back out. I just need some water and then-‘

‘You need some water and food,’ Maggie says to cut him off. ‘Try to get some rest as well. We _all_ have jobs to do, Dare. I’m not scared to go out there. Hey,’ she puts a hand under his chin to force his gaze up, ‘I’ll be back soon.’

His fingernails dig into the palm of his hands. ‘You better.’

She smiles before leading Kal towards the tree line. With sure gestures, she ties one of Daryl’s bandana’s in front of her face so she won’t breathe in the smoke, and takes out a knife while joining the other soldiers at the front line.

Daryl refuses to watch. Several torches have been lit near the stables. Tired soldiers are sitting against the structure, eyes closed as they try to get some sleep, though most just stare at the ground before their feet. There’s blood on their faces, sweat staining their clothes. Skin either pale or flushed, depending on how long ago they returned from the fight.

Water bottles are being passed around but hardly anyone touches the big plates of food that are nearby. Harlan and Alex see to minor injuries. Blisters from gripping spears too tightly, the occasional twisted ankle and cut from the bushes. Daryl suspects those injuries aren’t the real reason why they’re there though. They’re probably more concerned about the vacant eyes, the shaking hands and trembling lips.

Daryl finds a spot in the shadows. He drinks some water and chews on a piece of jerky, but that just makes him feel sick. After a couple of swallows, he uses the water to wet his rag and starts to clean his face with it. Then his neck, arms and hands. When he reaches his fingernails, someone sits down next to him with a sigh.

Paul looks tired. Several strands have escaped the bun on top of his head. They stick to his clammy skin. He looks eerily pale even in the warm light of the flames, and he’s now wearing one of his warm sweaters. Dark green, Daryl knows, even though he can’t quite tell in this light.

The scout looks at him, eyes hooded. ‘I’m glad you’re taking a break.’

Daryl cleans his fingernails. ‘Dante’s burning the bodies. The smell bothers me.’

‘I know.’

Daryl nods. He works his jaw before forcing the words out. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you.’

‘ _Disappointed_ me? You haven’t disappointed me.’ Paul frowns and shifts so he’s facing the Dixon, ‘why would you say that?’

‘You told me to go back inside. Like – I get it, y’know? I thought I had balls of steel before – best fighter of the new world. Pfft.’ He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand to try to get rid of the bitter taste, ‘but I ain’t _useless_ , okay? I can still fight with you.’

Paul sighs and shakes his head. ‘Before you and your brother came along, I was the best fighter Hilltop had. I still had to go home and tell them I lost a whole van filled with food to some bow-legged cowboy and street rat.’

Daryl snorts.

‘I even got captured.’

Daryl wrinkles his nose, ‘can’t even count how many times someone’s locked my ass up somewhere.’

‘Well, it’ll be hard if you count Maggie sending you to your room too. That would make anyone lose count,’ Paul allows. He smiles when he sees that Daryl smirks. He knocks their shoulders together. ‘Do you think Maggie is weak or useless?’

‘ _What_? Hell no!’

‘I bet you still told her to stay inside just now.’

Daryl’s shoulders slump. ‘Fucking hate you sometimes,’ he mutters before gnawing on his thumbnail. ‘Know-it-all.’

Paul cracks open a water bottle and wets his hands. He reaches out carefully until his fingertips touch Daryl’s cheek. The younger man doesn’t flinch. Paul wipes the blood and grime off of his skin. ‘We try to protect the people we love,’ he says softly.

Daryl reaches up to capture Paul’s hand. Blood and water mixes. He turns the hand and drags it closer. He kisses the inside of Paul’s wrist. ‘Thanks.’

‘Try to get some sleep.’

The Dixon huffs out a breath of laughter but leans back against the wall anyway. He closes his eyes and listens to the soldiers moving around them. The hum and hymn of the battlefield. Fire crackles somewhere close to him. The horses inside the barn whinny and scrape their hooves over the floor. He shifts his leg so it’s pressed against Paul’s and he’s sure that the other man is still there.

He falls asleep.


	3. Questions

* * *

Smoke still rises from the piles of walkers. Luckily, due to the wind, the smell of smoldering flesh doesn’t reach the wall, where Daryl is standing. The sun has come up and it’s almost noon now, and the battle has only been over for about an hour. The muscles in his arms, shoulders and back hurt. It’s been a long time since he’s had to fight for so long. Down below, soldiers are still sleeping next to the barn in case another attack comes. Soon, Kal will send them back to their actual beds.

Daryl takes a sip from his water bottle. It’s difficult to relax even though there are still patrols out in the woods to make sure that everything remains quiet. Like the end of the war, it’s hard for him to believe that it’s over.

What bothers him most is that none of their walker deterrents had worked last night. Oceanside had helped to rig them up in the woods after the final battle, but these clusters of walkers had just walked past them. It means that someone had guided the walkers straight to them.

It’s odd that no other attack came. Kal had warned Maggie about it; that the walkers might be just the first wave to tire and weaken them before the real fight started. It hadn’t happened. Daryl’s glad about that, of course, but when he looks at the piles and piles of smoldering bodies; he has to wonder one thing. Why would they sacrifice so many and not deliver a final blow?

It’s like the flaming arrows over their walls. Or the haunting sight of the whisperers standing on the other side of the field; motionless and watching them, letting them know that they’re never, ever safe. A show of force.

He puts the water bottle aside and lights a cigarette. The smoke tastes strange on his tongue and he needs to look away from the bodies to not get sick. Soft chatter comes through from the radio on his hip. He recognizes Ellie’s voice, their radio-specialist who seems to live in the communications room inside Barrington house. Oceanside is the first to answer, though the Sanctuary’s rapid responds causes interference on the line. It doesn’t take long for the other communities to call in. The Kingdom. Washington D.C.

Alexandria remains quiet.

Daryl ends the cigarette on the wall. He clips the water bottle back to his belt and then slides down the ladder to land in the dust. Particles dance in the air as he slips inside the barn. Everything is oddly quiet. All of the stable hands have been sent to their beds. It doesn’t surprise Daryl to find Dante here. He’s checking the water and food.

‘Hey,’ Daryl says to not spook him. ‘Didn’t get the chance yesterday but… thanks for lookin’ out for me. With the burning.’

Dante looks tired but he still offers a small smile. ‘Of course. Did the meeting end? How’s Maggie?’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl hops onto a bale of hay, ‘it ended half an hour ago. She’s good. Hopefully Aaron can convince her to get some sleep. I think Cheri took Hershel for a bit. He didn’t seem too happy about it but I haven’t heard him scream yet so…’

‘She’s probably bribing him with some honey-milk.’ A teasing smile lift the corner of his mouth up as he glances at the younger man. ‘It works on every Rhee kid.’

Daryl can’t help but smile back. ‘I ain’t no kid no more.’

Dante laughs under his breath. ‘I know. Still though.’

The Dixon grabs a piece of hay and starts to break it in smaller pieces. His fingernails are dirty even though Maggie had made him wash up after the battle. He uses a small piece of hay to scrape the dried blood and mud from under them. It falls onto his jeans. It doesn’t matter. ‘Thanks,’ he says softly.

‘For what?’

‘You always call us his kids. Like – I know it don’t matter for shit; I’ve got more dad’s than fingers to count them on it seems, and Hershel will be yours, too, like… if you want that- or if Maggie, like…’ Daryl scrunches up his nose when he feels that his ears turn red. ‘I’m fucking it all up. Never mind.’

Dante puts a bucket down and comes over. He leans against a barn door. ‘Of course you two will always be his. And if I get to be to Hershel what Shane was to you? That’d be a mighty compliment.’

‘Pretty sure you already are. We adopt you guys, ain’t the other way ‘round no more. He loves you.’

‘Yeah.’ The word is soft and full of wonder. It seems like Dante can’t help but beam, cheeks tinged red now. He folds his arms in front of his chest and chews on his lip to hide his smile.

Daryl grins at his boots. Then he looks up again, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. ‘Listen… I got one more favor to ask.’

Dante listens to his request and nods. ‘Have you discussed it with Maggie?’

‘No. Not yet. Why would she object to that?’

‘You know why.’

Daryl plucks at his frayed shoelaces. ‘Like I said; ain’t no kid no more.’

‘And like _I_ said; you’ll always be theirs,’ Dante tells him, ducking his head so he can catch the younger man’s eye, ‘no matter how old you are. Tell her as soon as you can, and I’ll put in an order. I’ve got one in mind that would be perfect. Julia has been keeping an eye out for a while now, she told me about that one the other day. What? We’ve talked about it before,’ Dante says but he laughs soft and shakes his head. ‘I think you’re right, but don’t tell Maggie I said that, in case she disagrees.’

‘Coward.’

The man laughs. ‘Totally. I’m not ashamed.’

‘Good,’ Daryl hops down from the bale of hay and swipes at Dante’s shoulder in the passing, fingertips trailing over the jacket. ‘Thanks, man.’

‘Anytime, Daryl.’

The community is oddly quiet now that the battle is over. Everyone is resting, most of them are in the expansion, or sitting in the shade on the other side of the big building. Even the children are quiet as they help an elderly woman carry the baskets with fresh laundry toward the lines at the back of Barrington house. No horses are being trained and there’s nobody tending to the gardens at the moment. The woodshop is abandoned, but he finds their blacksmith at his post.

The fire is burning as always. There’s soot on Earl’s weathered face. He’s older than most in the community, most assume he was a grandfather but nobody dares to ask now that it’s just him and Tammy that’s left. The man is sitting on a wooden bench as he studies one of the spears brought in by Eduardo.

‘Did it break?’

Earl shakes his head. He doesn’t need to look up to know to know who the southern drawl belongs to. ‘Blunt.’

‘Ain’t surprised. Man’s a beast with that thing.’

Earl makes a non-committal noise before putting it aside. He looks at the younger man. ‘You need work done?’

Daryl sits down on an up-turned bucket. ‘Yeah. Kinda. Hate to ask, especially after all this.’

‘Spit it out.’

He appreciates the bluntness of the man. Not many people deny him anything these days; out of sense of obligation or pity, but Earl has no problem shooing him away when he’s too busy. Request for new horseshoes for Khamsin could wait until they were necessary, or he would throw a whetstone at the man so he could sharpen his own damn knife instead.

Daryl pulls out his knife. ‘I like the length of it, but it just… it don’t feel right.’

‘You want a new knife?’

‘Yeah.’

Earl rubs the back of his neck before holding out his hand for the weapon. ‘Thank Christ. That thing has been a thorn in my eye since you walked in with that. Where did you get it? I know it isn’t one of mine.’

Daryl passes it over. ‘No, it ain’t. Taiwo got it for me, it’s just a spare one they had laying around, I guess. I lost mine.’

‘I know,’ Earl says as he studies the blade. ‘This doesn’t suit you at all. Most people think a knife is a knife, one size fits all, but they’re more like a pair of shoes. They’ve got to fit right. This one?’ he tries to balance it on the palm of his hand but fails. ‘It’ll be good for someone else.’

‘Do you have one that’ll fit me better?’

Earl snorts. ‘I can make you one that’ll fit a whole lot better.’

Daryl shifts his weight, ‘you don’t gotta, man. If you got something that’s-‘

‘Does Paul still have that drawing?’

‘What?’

‘I’ll need a reference for the flowers.’ Earl stokes the fire up by prodding around in the embers and throwing a log into the flames. ‘We made a couple at the fair without the reference. People kept asking if they could have one like yours – you made Tammy one happy woman, our trailer looks like a damn museum with all the stuff she could suddenly trade for one of those knives. We did them without reference. They looked all-right, I guess.’

‘What do you need the reference for then?’

Earl frowns. ‘We’re not going for all-right, now, are we?’

Daryl smiles. ‘Just the knife will be enough. I know it’s a lot of work already and I don’t want to waste more of your time when-‘

‘I’ll decide what I want to _waste_ my own damn time on, boy.’ His tone is harsh but there’s a glint of a smile in his eyes when he looks at the Dixon.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Now get.’ Earl stands and grabs the big hammer. He points at Daryl’s forehead with it. ‘And be sure to bring me that reference.’

In the end, the urge to head out into the woods to talk to Shane causes him to smoke half a pack of cigarettes on his balcony. It’s getting late, dinner will be served soon, and there are butts littered all around him. His fingers are stained and mouth tastes of ashes. Light-headed from the nicotine, he hops over the balustrade and slides down the column.

There’s nobody around to scold him for it. Instead of bee-lining for the secret tunnel, he heads towards the wall. He doesn’t scale it, but he follows it until he reaches the three graves. One of them still isn’t marked, somebody has cut the grass on Abraham’s and there are several stones placed next to the cross. Wild flowers are growing on Glenn’s grave. He’s glad nobody cut those.

He sits down in the grass to prevent himself from going outside. There’s a soldier walking the wall but he doesn’t pay the younger man below him any mind. Everyone’s already so used to him sitting there whenever he needs a break. He likes to sit here after nightmares while the sweat cools on his skin, but he likes to sit out here whenever Maggie’s upset with him too so people often joke around that it’s his time-out space.

They don’t clash often, him and Maggie. She doesn’t have too many rules and hardly ever changes them so that puts him at ease. They’re used to living together in tight spaces so neither of them gets annoyed by the little things anymore. When they do clash, it’s about the big things and mostly on him. Running away, lying, manipulating people, doing something reckless after being warned not to.

People used to laugh when it became clear that one of the most severe punishments he would get was; _go to your room_. It doesn’t seem like a big deal to them but it is to him. Being send to his room, being send _away,_ is the one thing he hates. And fears.

No matter what they’ve been through together, he’s always scared that he will cross a line and Maggie will send him away. That she’ll change her mind about him, give up on him, that she’ll confess never to have seen him as a son after all. There’s no foundation for any of that. Everyone knows they belong together; everyone can see how much she loves him. He’s done terrible things and she stuck by him, but the fear never leaves him.

He stays inside the walls because he knows Maggie wants him near right now.

He tries. He always tries for her, but he still feels like he fails too often.

‘Samagi for little prince, over?’

The voice coming out of his radio causes him to smile. He grabs the device and pushes the button down, ‘little prince for Samagi, secure line, over?’

‘Secure line. How are you? Elie just gave us an update. It sounded like quite the fight. Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine, Tai,’ Daryl says as he lets his fingers run through the grass nearby. ‘Nobody was hurt. We’re just tired. Are you guys okay?’

‘Yeah – nothing’s happened here,’ Taiwo says. His voice echoes on the other side of the line, which makes Daryl think that he’s sitting in front of the train, at the beginning of the tunnel. Maybe the rest of the group is hanging out in his room. ‘I was just worried about you.’

‘You’re very sweet.’ Daryl bites back a grin when he hears his boyfriend huff. ‘Oh – I traded in your knife, by the way. I wasn’t sure if you needed it back – I can get it back, but…’

‘We don’t need it back,’ Taiwo assures him. ‘What did you trade it in for?’

‘It didn’t feel right, so Earl is making me a custom one.’

‘Of course he is.’

Daryl frowns. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

There’s a metallic clang and some rustling, which probably means that Taiwo’s shifting and his dao hit the metal railing by accident. Boots get planted on the ground again before he speaks. ‘Nothing.’ There’s a silence. ‘Benefits of being the _prince_ , right? Getting stuff custom made for you... It’s a _knife_ , man. Just grab whichever.’

‘He offered.’

‘I’m sure he did.’ Taiwo sounds surly.

‘It ain’t because… you gave me a custom piece! That weren’t because people call me-‘

Taiwo cuts him off. ‘Yeah, because _I love you_.’

‘And you ain’t the only one who gives a damn about me,’ Daryl says before he screws up his nose,‘’sides, Earl’s like…. sixty, man. He’s looking out for me, is all.’

‘You’re such a moron sometimes,’ Taiwo mutters. ‘Whatever, like I said; we don’t need the knife back. Trade it in.’

Daryl frowns and shifts so he’s on his back, staring up at the slowly darkening sky. There are a few clouds drifting by. Most people have been hoping for rain for a while now, but he doubts they’ll get that lucky. It would wash away the soot and blood, too. The stench wouldn’t be so bad then.

He hates talking over the radio. Not in the first place because half of the colonies are probably listening in against their will, but not being able to see Taiwo makes it difficult to interpret his words. Normally he can see the playful smirk on his face, or that dissatisfied frown, but now there’s just stony silence.

‘Okay…’ he says, unsure. The heels of his boots dig into the earth. ‘Well, it’s gonna come in handy… I’m thinking ‘bout going to Alexandria.’

There’s a short silence on the line.

‘ _What_?’

Daryl brings his hand up and chews on his knuckles. ‘Alexandria.’

‘No, I heard you,’ Taiwo snaps. ‘Why are you going there? You said you wanted to stay at Hilltop with Maggie for a while and then you’d come see me.’

‘That was before … everything happened, man. We haven’t heard from Alexandria in ages.’

‘Exactly! They don’t want you there.’

Daryl sits up and blinks. Then frowns. ‘What the fuck do you know?’ he snaps back. ‘You don’t know shit about us, stop sticking your nose where it don’t belong!’

‘Oh _now_ it doesn’t belong, hmm?’ Taiwo asks. ‘You’re just mad because I hit a nerve. They haven’t tried to contact you, Carl’s not answering any of your calls – what makes you think they’ll even open the gates for you? Why would you risk your life trying to get there when they can’t even pick up the radio?’

‘Because it’s my _blood_ ,’ Daryl snarls and then works his jaw to calm himself down. ‘Gotta try something, man.’

‘Maybe they don’t want you to try. You’ve got to respect what they want, Daryl.’

‘If they want that, they can tell it to my face.’

Taiwo sighs. ‘well, don’t come crying here when they turn you away.’

‘I thought you wanted me to stop by,’ Daryl says with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

‘I want you to _stay_ , not stop by.’

The Dixon sighs heavily. He closes his eyes. ‘Don’t start again.’

Taiwo sucks on his teeth for a second. ‘I just don’t understand why I should move to the countryside – my whole family lives right here.’

‘And mine lives right here,’ Daryl bounces back. ‘All that’s fucking left of it, anyway. I ain’t leaving them because you want a warm b- ‘ He curses under his breath. ‘Good lord. Why’re we even fighting about this? Might not last the week with everything that’s going on and you want to pick a fight about where we’re gonna live?’

‘I’m not the one picking a fight. I’m just _telling_ you-‘

‘Maggie’s calling me. I gotta go.’

Taiwo snorts. ‘That’s really convenient, Daryl.’

‘Little Prince over and out.’

‘ _Hey_ ,’ Taiwo says because he can still hear the buzzing of their line. ‘I love you, you idiot.’

Daryl chews on his bottom lip. ‘Same. Over and out. For real now.’

‘Amagi, over and out.’

It doesn’t happen often that Aaron has to stand guard. Most of the time he’s tending to Gracie, or helping the construction crew to gather materials, but now he’s standing on the east side of the wall. The sun is setting. The shadows of the woods and Hilltop itself are long and gray, getting darker by the second. Aaron looks tired but alert. He glances over his shoulder to see who’s approaching him.

‘Sorry, I’m not here to relieve you,’ Daryl says as he leans against the banister next to Aaron. ‘I mean I could, but Maggie wants me home before it gets dark.’

Aaron laughs. ‘Is that your new excuse?’

‘Pretty much.’ He knocks their shoulders together. ‘Nah, I can take watch, man. You wanna go be with Gracie?’

‘You know what?’ Aaron says as he looks out over their darkening world, ‘I’d rather stay up here for a bit. There’s nobody I love more in this world, but… every parent needs a break sometimes. It turns out babies are exhausting.’

‘Hell, I don’t blame ya. I thought I was an early riser, but I keep bumping into you at the well every morning, bright-eyed and bushy tailed.’

Aaron barks out some laughter. ‘Bushy tailed… sure. You’re such a liar, Dixon.’

‘Trying to be nice about it,’ Daryl grins while he gnaws on his knuckle. ‘Can I ask you something? It’s kinda… stupid, but… Way back when – back at Alexandria, Eric said you wouldn’t mind if I came to you if I had any questions about... stuff.’

Aaron lifts an eyebrow. ‘ _Stuff_?’

‘Yeah…’

‘I thought you liked driving Paul crazy with questions.’

‘I’m banned from asking him questions because we’re _freaky friends_ now.’

Aaron eyes him.

Daryl grins around his knuckle.

With a sigh, Aaron turns back to their view. ‘Just ask your question.’

‘Cool,’ Daryl shifts and rubs at his nose, ‘ain’t even a _gay stuff_ question, neither. Just – Before all this, you used to live with Eric, right? But you had your own place before that, even. He said you had a bachelor pad, or something.’

Aaron scratches at his beard and smiles. ‘I can’t believe you remember that, yeah – we eventually got our own apartment in Washington. It happened really fast, I was away for work and he called – told me to look at some pictures. I texted him that I liked the look of the place. _Good_ , he said,’ Aaron recalls with a smile, ‘ _because I’ve just put in an offer_.’

Daryl perks up. ‘In Washington? Like – D.C.? I didn’t know that. You ever wanna go back, check the place out? I bet Tai can get us there through the tunnels, he knows every inch of that city. Wouldn’t be no problem neither. You could come with me next time I go and-‘

‘Dare,’ Aaron says with a kind smile, ‘thank you, but I’d rather not.’

‘Oh. Sorry. Why not?’

‘Who knows what’s happened to that place. I’d rather remember it how it was; I don’t need to see it in disrepair, falling apart, rotting away… It was a good place to live together.’

Daryl nods his understanding. He adjusts his baseball cap and fidgets with his jewelry for a second. ‘That’s kinda what I wanted to ask, though. Like… you both had a place, before, right?’

‘Before we moved in together? Yes.’

‘How’d you decide where to live?’

Aaron frowns. ‘It wasn’t that hard. We’d both been living in the city for a while, we knew we wanted to stay there. There were a couple of neighborhoods we were interested in, but we were both just starting out our careers so there weren’t too many options to choose from. Someone had given Eric a head up that that place was coming on the market and he snatched it up for us. He had a good eye for property.’

‘Oh. Okay,’ Daryl gnaws on his knuckle again as he thinks. ‘Thanks.’

The older man turns to him, ‘why did you ask?’

‘Tai wants me to come stay at Washington. He stayed here for a while, after – y’know? To help out ‘nd stuff,’ he rubs at the scar on his face. ‘Mason told his whole group to come back, he wanted them back home so they left but… I kinda thought he’d come back here, instead of me going there.’

‘You don’t like Washington?’

Daryl scrunches up his nose. ‘I don’t like not being with my people.’

‘Ah,’ Aaron says. ‘And Taiwo feels the same.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Understandable. Why did you think he’d come to stay here?’

‘Because I’m a selfish asshole. Apparently.’

Aaron laughs.

Daryl can’t help but smile as he leans on the wall. It’s getting colder now, he can feel the temperature dropping all around them. Soon, Kal will order the torches to be lit and soldier will warm their fingertips at them whenever they pass one. ‘It’s not like one of us is going anywhere now, of course. Harlan said it was important to keep thinking about my future. And not just; Beta’s head on a spike. It doesn’t end there, y’know? Feels like it should, but… Gotta think about what comes after.’

Aaron sighs deeply. ‘That seems like sound advice. Eric and I moved in together because our lease ended. We’d been dating for a while, it made sense to us. The hassle of trying to find a new place, new roommates – it didn’t seem worth it when he was right there, also needing a place. So we lived together. It worked for us.’ Aaron looks at the Dixon, ‘your lease isn’t ending. You don’t have to make a decision right now. I see so many people jumping into things just because they think time’s running out. They get married, or move in, start a family even. Maybe that’s part of thinking about what comes next; knowing that time isn’t running out.’

Daryl frowns. ‘You think it’s a bad idea?’

‘I think you’re young,’ Aaron says. ‘Go stay with him during fall; there’ll be good enough weather to explore the city and nice and toasty on the platform. Spend winter here to teach Hershel how to make a snowman. Go sailing in spring. There’s a place for you in every community. You don’t have to choose yet.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl says with a hesitant smile. ‘We thought, like – it’s what people do, right? Move in and all that. Dante moved in with Maggie. Magna ‘nd Yumiko. Eduardo and Sammy. Loads of people.’

Aaron shrugs. ‘If that’s what you want to do, sure, go for it.’

‘Won’t it be weird if I say no? Or that I wanna wait?’

‘Why would that be weird?’

‘Not weird, but… like I don’t... like... love him enough?’

Aaron looks at him. ‘That’s got nothing to do with it. You don’t say yes to anything you don’t want to, or feel ready for. And I think you should give Taiwo a bit more credit than that. He’ll understand if you just explain how you feel. Use your words, Dare.’

Daryl nods and gives the other man a smile to show he recognizes the words. ‘I know. Okay, yeah – I’ll talk to him. Kinda blew him off earlier so he probably ain’t too happy with me right now, so… tomorrow.’ He pushes himself away from the wall with a sigh. ‘It’s stupid anyway, worrying about that kind of shit after yesterday. Think this was it? It’s been quiet for a while now.’

‘I don’t know,’ Aaron says as he scans the tree line. ‘I don’t understand why they would sacrifice so many walkers and then… nothing.’

‘Nothing they do makes sense.’

Aaron hums and looks over his shoulder when a bell softly tolls in the distance. ‘You better get inside. Dinner’s ready.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl scuffs his boot by kicking one against the other. ‘Want me to bring you a plate?’

‘Are you sure Maggie will let you outside after dark?’ he laughs at the annoyed look on the younger man’s face. ‘I’m fine, thank you though. Give Gracie a kiss from me.’

With a steaming plate in his hand, he makes his way over to Maggie’s table. It’s crowded, with Dante balancing Hershel on his thigh while trying to feed him some mashed potatoes, and Maggie giving Gracie her bottle. Paul’s talking to Kal and Eduardo. A map is spread out on the table, several of the ornate silver utensils are holding the corners down.

There’s always an empty spot for him at the table, no matter how many people join them.

‘Hey,’ he squeezes Maggie’s shoulder to get her attention and leans down to kiss the blonde hair of the baby, ‘you okay?’

‘Fine,’ she looks tired but smiles at the sight of him. ‘You?’

‘Yeah – fine. Was with Aaron for a bit.’ His gaze drifts through the big room. It’s quieter than usual; he figures most of the soldiers have already gone to bed after the long night and day they’ve had. Some women from the expansion sit together a couple of younger kids are putting a puzzle together at another table. There’s a group of teenagers sitting at the very back.

He’s never paid them much mind before. Most are older than him by a couple of years. One of the guys is training to become a soldier, another is helping the teacher at the expansion with their classes. He’s pretty sure he’s seen the girl out in the field before, bringing in the harvest.

They’re laughing. Relaxed postures, taking up more space than they should, all eyes on someone else.

‘Da!’ Hershel demands with an unhappy frown. One chubby finger points at Daryl.

‘That’s right, that’s Daryl,’ Dante says while bouncing him once, ‘and here’s another bite! Ahw, come on, buddy. One more,’ he pleads when Hershel turns away from the spoon and then squirms around his lap to try to get to his mother and then brother. ‘No, we’re eating now. You can climb all over him in a bit.’

Hershel cries.

Daryl looks at him and the crying stops but now he’s holding two hands out, demanding to be picked up. ‘No, Kiss. Eat your dinner. Listen to Dante.’

Hershel starts to cry again when he realizes his brother isn’t moving in to grab him.

‘I’ll get gone,’ Daryl says with a roll of his eyes.

‘You don’t have to,’ Maggie says as she gestures to the empty seat. ‘Sit, he’ll calm down in a second. Tell me what you’ve been up to. I’ve hardly seen you today!’

‘We’ll catch up later,’ Daryl promises. He walks down the aisle, dodging some of the kids that are now running around after getting bored with their puzzle. With a thud, he places his plate on the last table that’s almost empty.

It makes Lydia jump. She frowns at him. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Having dinner,’ he says as he sits down opposite from her. The food has cooled significantly, which he’s quite pleased about. The sooner he can get out of here the better. The sniggers coming from the other table cause him to frown and glance to the side. ‘They the ones who’re givin’ you trouble?’

Lydia shrugs.

Daryl tries to ignore them. They’re sitting just far away for their whispers to be a soft murmur in his ear, and he can’t quite make out the words. It reminds him of his schooldays, when he would sit at a table alone during lunch, or of the people of Alexandria when they’d first been introduced. Whispers and stares and sniggers and rumors and-

He takes out his knife and slams it into the table with a bang that quiets the entire room. A mean glare at the other table. ‘Got something to say now?’

The other teenagers blink at him.

‘Shut the fuck up then.’

The girl pushes her dark curls behind one ear. ‘Sorry, Daryl.’

He ignores her.

‘Thank you,’ Lydia says softly when everyone else has turned back to their meals.

He ignores her, too.


	4. Snake

* * *

Some low-hanging branches almost smack into his face as he runs through the small cluster of trees. He dodges them with a curse, boots slipping on the dry earth, blowing up dust in his wake, but he keeps on running. The necklaces bounce against his bare chest. He’s seen others take their jewelry off or tucking them into their shirts, but he’s always glad to feel the silver move against his skin.

The air is still cool, but it will be another hot day. Out in the distance, he can see insects dance just above the tall grass. They hardly move as he cuts through the field. It reminds him of the times he’s been on the back of Merle’s bike, driving through a cloud of tiny flies on their way to the lake, and him standing on the side of the road five minutes later, gagging and trying to clean out his mouth. Weren’t no different than their game, Merle had promised him. Protein.

He runs past the barn. It’s not much of a building, four poles and a roof to keep hay and wood dry, though the workers keep saying that they’ll make some walls eventually. The lumber site has been quiet now that the workers are needed as soldiers.

There are a lot more abandoned projects on his route. There are cars stalled on the far side, most with their engines entirely dismantled. Someone from the sanctuary was supposed to come and help convert them so they can run on the biofuel they make, but Beth and Dwight need everyone home to keep the place running.

Crates with gardening tools are ready to be shipped to Oceanside, but Maggie has deemed it not a priority any longer. There’s a satellite that Ellie wants installed on one of the outposts for some reason. The reception is pretty good as is, so Daryl understands why Maggie hasn’t allowed a group to go that far out. The post isn’t even manned, so it might be wasted resources if a storm takes the water tower.

He runs along the wall. Some places have been reinforced with fresh beams, the only project that Aaron gives precedence now. The smell of freshly sawed beams chases him as he cuts towards the expansion. People are eating their breakfast on the yard. It reminds him of the place they used to have at the prison. Wooden pallets stacked to create a terrace, meat curing and drying on racks before they’re send to the kitchen in the main building.

He loops around the barn and is glad to see that Dante isn’t working right now. It’s rare that the man gets to sleep in, both due to his job and because Hershel sleeps in their room still. He isn’t sure at what age kids get their own room, but he guesses that Maggie isn’t too keen on moving the kid out.

His muscles strain as he runs up the path to Barrington House. The building is still as majestic as always, though signs of disrepair are starting to show. One of the rain pipes broke during a spring storm, one of the windows is shattered though nobody is sure how that has even happened. The paint is chipping away from the pillars. Maggie likes to blame him for it, but it’s happening to all of them and not just the one below his balcony, which he uses as a slide whenever she isn’t around to send him to his room for it.

Some of the pipes froze during winter, and burst when spring hit. It’s a good thing that it’s getting hotter out, because most of the showers are now out of running. Several big barrels have been placed next to Barrington House for people to bathe with. Sheets of plastic provide some privacy, but the complaints about the showers still drive Paul crazy.

Daryl heads over to the area and finally slows his step. With one hand pressed against his side, he walks over to the porch where he’d placed his fresh clothes before he left for his run. Inside his cubicle, he strips and washes the sweat and dust off. He doesn’t mind using a bucket or even the cold water. He remembers having to dunk himself in ice cold rivers while they were on the road, so even this feel like a luxury to him.

He uses his clean shirt to dry himself off and puts it around his belt as he heads back down the main road. This time, he heads left to the training grounds. The soldiers are already stretching.

‘Morning,’ Daryl says as he steps up beside Eduardo. ‘Where do you want me?’

‘Hey,’ the man looks surprised to see him. ‘Good morning. Could you help out with some drills? I think Paul might be coming as well, but the meeting is running a bit longer and… oh.’

Daryl purses his lips and raises his eyebrows. ‘Meeting?’

Eduardo looks pained. ‘Kal’s heading out with a group. It doesn’t sit well with anyone that everything’s quiet.’

‘They don’t need no tracker anyone?’

‘Madison is going with them.’

‘Fine,’ Daryl puts his shirt over a railing to dry. ‘Any reason I weren’t invited to this meeting?’

Eduardo shrugs. ‘I don’t know, man. I’m a mere foot soldier who’s supposed to run some drills, that’s all I know. Round up the guys and let’s get started.’

The demo is fairly easy because it’s a group of new soldiers. Some hand-to-hand and self-defense moves that help against both walkers and people. The group splits up in duo’s as they practice. Daryl walks around and gives some tips, or does the moves again but slower when someone doesn’t remember what they’re supposed to be doing.

When he reaches the last group, he spots someone standing a little way away. It’s Lydia, dark hair now in a ponytail and her hands curled around a dull spear they use for training. She watching the other soldiers, unconsciously mimicking their movements.

He bites his tongue, rolls his shoulder back to relax the suddenly tight muscles and walks over to her.

A hint of fear creeps into her features when she sees him.

‘You know how ‘ta use that?’

She lowers the spear and looks down. ‘No.’

‘You’re holding it wrong.’

‘Oh.’

Daryl grits his teeth, ‘the fuck you’re doing here if you don’t wanna learn?’

That causes her to look up, eyes narrowed in anger and lips just a thin line. ‘I _do_ want to learn!’

‘ _You ain’t even looking at me_! How the hell am I supposed to teach you if you-‘ He breathes in through his nose and stomps away to grab one of the practice spears from the rack. It takes him a lot of effort to walk back to her while at the same time not trying to glare her to death. ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Here. You gotta hold it like this.’

‘Thanks,’ she says softly as she changes her grip. ‘Who taught you?’

‘Morgan, from the Kingdom. He uses a Bo – it doesn’t have the sharp tip,’ Daryl says while gesturing at the spear. ‘If Eduardo’s got time later, you gotta ask him to teach you more. I can do the basic’s but he’s way better. Okay. Let’s get started.’

An hour later, Daryl’s laughing while dodging an angry jab from the girl. The movements are getting sloppy because she’s getting tired and frustrated. He’s too quick. Not a single blow has landed yet. It’s not really that surprising, he’s been training since birth and this seems to be the first time she has ever touched such a weapon. He’s actually impressed with her tenacity and drive.

‘ _Daryl_!’

Daryl spins out of a dodge and looks at Paul. Chest heaving as he pants but with a smile on his face. ‘Paul – hey!’ The spear bangs against his upper arm, hard enough that he knows it will bruise. He turns around slowly.

Lydia stares at him with wide eyes. ‘Sorry,’ she whispers. ‘I didn’t hear him call you… I’m sorry.’

‘Filthy cheat,’ Daryl says as he throws his own spear aside to rub at his arm but he makes sure she catches the edge of his smile before he turns back to Paul. It surprises him that Paul seems angry all of a sudden. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘You could have dodged that.’

Daryl frowns, ‘Couldn’t. Didn’t even fucking see it comin’ my way, thanks to you hollerin’ like that. How was I supposed to-’ He folds his arms in front of his chest when realization dawns. ‘Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Listen – I’m sorry if it was too much, okay? I thought it’d be best to be honest about things for a fucking change. That way, when I say I want to slice my fucking wrists, you can take the sharp things away and feel better. And when I say I’m fine, people will actually believe me. Guess that’s not how it works, huh? Sorry.’

‘You don’t have to apologize,’ Paul says as he looks down at his feet and rubs at his face.

‘Listen,’ Daryl says as he steps closer. ‘When we came back I was kinda joking about it, you checking my rations ‘nd everything, but I’m serious, Paul. I need you to stop looking at me like I’ll be gone tomorrow. It’s making me… It’s making it worse.

‘I know you’re there if I need you,’ Daryl puts a hand on Paul’s shoulder and squeezes. ‘And I know that’s more than I deserve. Thank you, but at ease, Paul. I wasn’t trying to get a beating today, so at ease, soldier.’ He walks past the man and puts his spear back in the rack.

There’s one thing that Taiwo had hated about Hilltop colony and that’s the fact that there’s no music anywhere. There are records stored away in one of the closets, piled in big cardboard boxes and still getting dusty. On one of the first trips, the Saviors had taken the only record player, claiming it as Negan’s.

Some of the old radio’s still have a slot for cassettes, though nobody as found any of those in the old house. The cd-player in Alex’s trailer turned out to be broken. The look of utter horror on Taiwo’s face when he found out that someone in the expansion had strung old CD’s together with wire to make a psychedelic beaded curtain is something Daryl won’t soon forget.

‘Got a question for you.’

Luke seems surprised. ‘For me?’ he glances over at Kelly and Connie, who are lounging on the other side of the room before looking back at Daryl, who’s standing on the threshold of their trailer. ‘Yeah – of course. What’s the matter?’

‘You were a music teacher.’

Luke’s gaze flickers back and forth again. ‘Yes.’

‘So you know a lot about music.’

‘I would like to think so.’

Daryl steps inside the trailer and sits down across from the man at the table. ‘Okay. So let’s say someone has every record under the sun, but you still wanna give him something music-y. What would you give them?’

Luke blinks. The dark curls are shiny and some stick to his clammy forehead. There’s a shadow of a beard of his cheeks and chin. Like always, he’s quick to smile, either because of his own cheerful nature or sheer nerves. ‘Something music-y?’ he repeats slowly and hesitantly.

‘Yeah. I wanna give Taiwo something when I go back to Washington, or whenever we see each other again. Ain’t gonna be for a while, but stuff like that is pretty hard to find. Figured I could get a head start, but I ain’t sure what to look for. He can’t play an instrument, I don’t think, and he’s got loads of records already so… any ideas?’

One night, Luke had made some sort obscure reference to a music piece, all wrapped up in a terrible joke. Taiwo had been the only one who’d laughed. There are many sketches in Daryl’s notebook of the roaring fire in Barrington House’s living room; Taiwo all excited gestures and Luke laughing on the couch next to him. Night after night, until the group had to leave.

‘Oh. Well,’ Luke shifts in his chair and scratches at his beard, ‘you could keep an eye out for –‘

Daryl doesn’t really listen. He sits and waits and nods at all the right places. After about five minutes, he starts to worry that he might have misjudged the distance and passing of time. A relieved smile flitters across his face when the door to the trailer opens and Yumiko walks in.

Long black hair frames her carved-out cheekbones, flowing over her shoulder to brush across the compound bow she prefers. It has led to some teasing back and forth, with her saying he’s lazy for using a crossbow, and him gesturing with indignation to all the bells and whistles on her prized possession.

Kelly sits up when her friend enters. ‘Any sign of them?’

‘ _Nothing_ ,’ Yumiko says and the word sounds bitter. She hangs her bow on a hook in the corner and walks over to the small kitchen area. Their trailer isn’t hooked on to any system; there’s no running water so the sink has been filled up with papers and maps, and the door to the fridge has been take off. There are bottles of water on the shelves. She grabs one of them and leans back against the counter. ‘It doesn’t make any sense. It’s like they left the area; we can’t find any trace of them anywhere.’

Daryl tries to sit as still as he can.

‘But why would they leave?’ Luke asks, distracted from their previous conversation, as he turns towards his family so Connie can read both his lips and his hands. ‘They were winning.’

Connie’s signs are too complicated for Daryl to understand.

‘They lost her a while ago, long enough to recover from that,’ Yumiko says with a frown. ‘They were quiet for months after Beta fell down that shaft – why would they come back just to kill Rick and then disappear again?’

‘Beta got hurt in that fall – Taiwo said he was limping,’ Luke says as he glances to the door, because Magna comes in. He raises his eyebrows in greeting before turning back to the conversation. ‘Maggie thinks they’re having trouble selecting a new Alpha – they might have killed Rick, but a lot of them are afraid to take up arms against us as a united front. They know we have guns. They remember what happened last time.’

Yumiko sighs, ‘somebody should make a move, on either side. These useless scouting missions – she’s sending them out for show! We _know_ they aren’t anywhere near Alexandria, but-‘

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Luke turns in his seat, obviously surprised at the hostile tone in Magna’s voice, who has just come in. He follows her angry gaze. ‘Oh, Daryl stopped by to ask what he should bring back for his boyfriend. Taiwo’s very interested in music, and-‘

‘You really are a little snake, aren’t you?’ Magna asks.

Daryl slowly gets up. ‘Thanks for your help.’

‘Maggie has excluded him from most meetings. He’s probably been lurking around Ellie’s office to figure out when we would be back - timed it just right. There’s a reason he’s no longer invited to those meetings,’ Magna says. ‘Maggie doesn’t trust him.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘You’re acting like I’ll be selling state secrets on a street corner.’ He moves towards the door, careful not to turn his back towards the group. ‘Like I said: thank you for your help.’

Magna grabs his upper arm when he wants to slip out of the trailer. ‘I don’t particularly care if you want to go on a suicide mission to get back at Beta,’ she says, voice low and soft even as her fingernails dig into his skin, ‘but don’t drag us into it. If we told you something worthwhile and you took off after him just now? We’d be hanging from the goddamn gates by our necks.’

Daryl bites on his lip and then rips his arm away. ‘Don’t grab me like that.’ He chews on the inside of his cheek and thinks about running away but decides not to. ‘Nobody tells me nothing no more. I know Maggie doesn’t want me there because she thinks I’ll go running after that freak but… I won’t. _And I can’t prove it if nobody tells me anything!_ ’

‘Go talk to Maggie if it bothers you so much,’ Magna says as she folds her arms and stares him down. ‘Don’t go around causing trouble for us.’

‘Weren’t causing no trouble,’ he sulks. Then he scratches at his shoulder before looking over his shoulder at Luke, ‘sorry… that book sounded like something he’d like though, I’ll keep an eye out for it.’

Luke’s face brightens and he gestures at Connie, who’d been talking behind his back, apparently. ‘See? He _was_ listening!’

Magna rolls her eyes and puts a hand on Daryl’s shoulder to shove him out of the trailer.

He stumbles down the narrow staircase and lands in the dust with a soft grunt as he tries to regain his balance. A couple of people look up at the sudden uncoordinated movement in the corner of their eyes, and he awkwardly adjusts his baseball cap before moving on.

There’s no point in stalling any longer, he supposes, so he makes his way over to Barrington house. It takes him a while to locate Maggie. The office downstairs is empty and Hershel is in Cheri’s safe hands in the kitchen. Dante is catching up on some sleep in their bedroom. In the end, he decides to step into his own bedroom to grab his armor so he can search for her on the wall and outside of the community. Maybe she went on another patrol with Kal, or-

Maggie’s sitting on his bed, his blankets pulled around her shoulders. There’s a stack of letters right next to her on the mattress. She has one of his old notebooks in her hands though. The pages have yellowed over time, some curled from hurriedly being stuffed into his backpack, but the colors are still vivid. It’s one of his oldest ones. Even from this distance, he can see the prison, the old pick-up him and Carl had tried to drive, the sketch he’d used for Will’s memorial.

‘Sorry,’ Maggie says without looking up, ‘I didn’t think you’d mind. Dante’s asleep, I didn’t want to wake him up.’

‘I don’t mind none.’

She comes across a picture of Glenn. He’s laughing and holding one of the squirming piglets in his arms. She smiles at the paper. ‘I’m glad you didn’t destroy these.’

‘Me too.’ Daryl throws himself onto the bed next to her. With a grunt, he twists and shifts around to get his boots off. They land beside the bed with a dull thud. When Maggie looks at him with a raised eyebrow, he blurts out; ‘I snuck into Luke’s trailer to hear what Yumiko and Magna had to say about the patrol, ‘cause you didn’t want me there. Sorry.’

Maggie blinks and then laughs.

‘What?’ Daryl asks with a frown.

‘You’re just as bad as Glenn was at keeping secrets, aren’t you? He’d do the exact same thing; first avoid me for days and then blurt it out.’

He grins up at the ceiling. ‘Weren’t really a secret worth keeping. ‘sides, Magna will probably come bitch to you about it.’ He screws up his nose. ‘She called me a snake.’

‘Well, she’s not wrong.’

Sock-clad feet kick lightly at Maggie’s knee. ‘Stop.’

‘Okay,’ she puts the notebooks and stack of letters aside so she can stare up at the ceiling as well. ‘There wasn’t much they could have said. We went out there to find a trace, a track – anything, but it’s like they’ve vanished into thin air. The last couple of days… I didn’t want you at the meetings because I’m afraid that as soon as we find them, you’ll go after them. You’re training again, you’re getting back in the saddle, you’re helping Kal with the routes – you’re getting ready.’

Her hand finds his. She squeezes tightly. ‘I almost lost you. _Little prince badly injured, going into shock_ ,’ she shakes her head and purses her lips. ‘The car parked out front, Rick sitting on the steps of the trailer… just _covered_ in your blood. They let me in to see you. I’ve seen you ill before – at the prison. Shane and I would sit at your bedside then but… this was worse. Harlan didn’t think you’d make it, you’d lost so much blood and the shock and… He thought you were going to die.’

‘He don’t know shit,’ Daryl scoffs, trying to make light of the situation. ‘Tough as nails.’

‘I didn’t want to be there when you died,’ Maggie says. There are tears in her eyes now. ‘It should be someone you love, but I don’t think I could ever do it to you.’

He shivers. ‘Don’t matter. Didn’t happen.’

‘I’m so sorry I didn’t stay with you. Harlan said you asked for me. That you were screaming and…’ her free hand covers her eyes.

‘Mom,’ Daryl says softly. ‘C’mon. Don’t do this.’

‘I don’t know how we’ve done it all those years,’ Maggie says as she wipes tears away. ‘I don’t know how we’ve just let you wander out there with a gun and radio – _happy hunting and be home in time for dinner_? Every time you go out now… I can’t. It makes me sick, knowing that you’re out there. And you’re training again and-‘

‘Stop,’ Daryl sits up and looks down at her. ‘ _Please_ stop.’ He thinks about how he should tell her about the knives, about his deal with Dante, but can’t bring himself to do it now. With a sigh, he scoots closer and lies back down again. One arm around Maggie’ shoulders, tucking her against his chest. ‘I ain’t going anywhere.’

The next morning, Daryl sits on the porch with a new notebook. It’s a simple sketch of his current view. While he’s great at faces, figures and flowers, creating depth and dimension still causes him a lot of trouble. There’s something off about the barn he’d tried to render earlier and he leans to the side so he can read a passage out of a thick book he’d found in the library. The font is small and the words big; he can hardly make sense of it all.

The little sketches accompanying the text help a lot, but not enough. He likes learning by trying better anyway, especially when it comes to drawing. Over the years, a lot of people have given him books to help him learn a specific style. Cartoons when he was younger, photo realism when he was older. The tips were useful and he’d always liked the pictures, but one afternoon with DJ, the tattoo artist for Washington D.C., had taught him a lot more then poring over those books ever had.

DJ isn’t around to tell him why his building is crooked right now though.

‘Morning, Daryl!’

A group of soldiers walks past him. Their boots stomp on the old wood until they jump down into the dust of the driveway. Out in the distance, a couple of stable hands are leading the horses towards the gate so they can get on their way quickly.

Daryl gives them a wave.

‘Stay safe.’

‘Yes ma’am,’ Kal salutes Maggie with a smile, but it fades quickly when he spots the younger man sitting on the porch. He turns slightly to give the mother a pointed look before dropping down into the dust as well. ‘Morning, Dare.’

‘Take care, Kal.’

Maggie leans onto the railing as they watch how the soldiers mount their horses. The gate opens, dust billows and then they’re gone. The sound of their hooves fades quickly when the gates start to close again. ‘Dare, are you busy?’

‘Nope.’

‘Good,’ Maggie turns on her heels and heads back in. ‘I need your help.’

The office is mostly used as storage. There are boxes with extra supplies, or stuff that needs to be shipped to other colonies when the roads are clear again. There’s a pile with clothes nobody knows what to do with. Ellie likes to store coils with electrical wire here, as well as boxes with lightbulbs and batteries so nobody helps themselves to it. A mysterious crate filled with liquor should be somewhere near the back, though Daryl isn’t sure whether Merle had actually managed to steal it like he always threatened he would.

The paintings have been replaced by his drawings. Right between his artwork, there are some of Judith’s scribbles that Michonne would send with her letters. Stick figures in front of boxes that should resemble his old home at Alexandria. He wonders whether she has outgrown her old room yet. Maybe they moved her into his.

‘Here,’ Maggie grabs a stack of letters from her desk and puts them in front of him. ‘Read them.’

‘Right now?’

‘I thought you weren’t busy.’

His ears burn as he grabs the first envelope. ‘Ain’t much of a reader, could take a while.’

Maggie shrugs and grabs the big notebook she uses to keep track of trade deals. ‘Take your time.’

They’re letters he has never seen. Some are older, referencing to the first couple of weeks after Beta’s fall down the shaft. He doesn’t remember much of that time as he’d spend most of it in his room, sleeping and recovering from his injuries. Though all that’s left now is the scar, the pain in his spine and head from the concussion had given him more grief than the obvious wound. When he’d recovered enough to move around the colony again, Taiwo and Amaka had kept him away from any kind of politics.

It had been nice to just lay in the sunshine for a while, work on his drawing until it would start to hurt his head and then spend the rest of the day with Taiwo. They’d watch when Felix got his first riding lessons, help out with Hershel, or trade stories back and forth in his darkened bedroom. In his mind, the whisperers were done.

Now he reads about Ezekiel’s objections to the deal that was made. Cautionary tales of old, the warning that it would just give the whisperers time to regroup and build their forces again if they could hold onto land. With borders separating them, they would not see what a community could bring them. They would just remain others on distant shores, with hate always brewing and growing at the thought of one another.

Old messages from Eugene about the dams he plans to build; a request to see the original building plans for the watermill that Hilltop holds, a warning about how the radio equipment is starting to show signs of wear and tear especially at the outposts. There had been a fire in one of the houses; a gas leak due to old pipes. A request for help; they don’t have a blacksmith.

A report written up by Ellie; Oceanside claims that the border was crossed from the south side but nobody was found. Advice from Alexandria was to let it be, what does Maggie say?

Correspondence between Harlan and the doctors at Washington, bound together by twine. He tries to decipher one of the letters but doesn’t really understand what they’re talking about, so he puts them aside.

There are notes of complaints thrown in there. There aren’t enough showers anymore, people wanting to switch jobs, objections to that last shipment of food to the Sanctuary, a noise complaint from the trailers and requests for the scouts so they can keep an eye out for specific items.

One of the little notebooks has been returned to Hilltop. It used to be hidden in a safe house, stuffed into the back of couch, together with a tiny pencil that’s been whittled down by hunting knifes. There are names on every page. He flips through it until he finds his own name, right next to Merle’s. The two of them on patrol together.

There are more recent letters and notes, too. Ones he has never seen before.

Beth writing her sister; how glad she is that winter is ending, that they might finally be able to grow something this spring, that some people have disappeared. All of their stuff had been left behind, which made Beth worry that they’d done something rash instead of running away. It worries her that they can’t find the bodies. What if one of the kids sneaks into an older part of the factory and finds them? What if they didn’t end it properly?

Ezekiel mentions how grateful he is that Washington is still trading with them. During winter, their world had become so small. It’s spring; and things are looking up.

There’s a letter from one of the kids in the expansion; he’ll turn twelve soon and he wants to learn how to fight but his parents refuse to let him train. Maybe Maggie can help? Didn’t Daryl start training when he was twelve?

Several forms of people wanting to move. A family from Washington would feel better above ground; which community has room for them? A couple from Hilltop would like to stay with the friends they made during the fair. A former sailor misses the ocean.

With a sigh, Daryl puts the last letter down.

Maggie looks amused, ‘all done? You got any questions?’

‘People don’t got bigger problems than a kid with a kazoo?’ Daryl asks as he slumps in his chair and puts his boots on Maggie’s desk with a thump. He lights a cigarette. ‘There are about seven noise complaints in there. Christ.’

‘Apparently not,’ Maggie puts the book aside. ‘One day I’m going to find who keeps giving you those cigarettes and I’m going to wring their necks.’

‘You’re no fun.’ He blows the smoke up at the ceiling and watches it disappear. ‘Why are you showing me this now? ‘s old news.’

‘I’m sorry about yesterday. You shouldn’t be the one consoling me.’

He frowns, not really understanding where that’s coming from. ‘It’s what we do. Hell, if I can come cryin’ about my stupid crush not working out, you can come be sad when I almost fucking die.’

It makes her smile. ‘Okay. I’ve been trying to keep you away from everything – the meetings, the patrols, everything that had anything to do with the outside world. I thought it would keep you safe. Keep you here. At first it was about buying you time – to heal from losing Merle and Rick, from what happened out there.’ She pushes a strand of dark hair back behind her ear. ‘I don’t think it’s working.’

Daryl shrugs. ‘It helped, in the beginning – with Merle. I thought it was over. There was time to just heal up, take it easy for a while. With Rick…’ he shakes his head and looks away, ‘ain’t the same. I _am_ healed, and everyone pussy-footing around me is just making me feel like shit. I _tried_. I tried seeing Harlan, and staying inside and doing it your way but… it ain’t me. I can’t just sit here while they’re still out there, while Carl’s….’ he sighs and takes another drag from his cigarette. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Me too. I was scared you would go after them on your own.’

‘Thought about it,’ he admits. ‘Thought maybe I could slip out, track them down, find him. If I could just take him out, it would give you a better shot at ending it all. Wouldn’t matter if he took me down with him, or that the others would hunt me down before I got home.’

‘What changed your mind?’

He ends his cigarette on the bottom of his boot. ‘I saw them, when I were dying. Will at the trailer. Shane was at the prison. Got to ride Khamsin again, all the way to your daddy’s farm. Glenn was there, sitting on the steps.’ He bites on his lower lip, ‘just thought about seeing them again after doing something like that. Some self-sacrificing bullshit to be the hero. They wouldn’t have been proud of that. Everything we’ve done, we’ve done together. This ain’t about me getting back at him. It’s about Hershel having a place to grow old in, y’know? All those communities living together – the fair, everything we’ve been working towards. The new world, right?’

Maggie nods.

‘I wanna see that. I wanna be a part of that, not as some story, some panel on Alexandria’s wall to show that I once did a thing that maybe sort of helped but got me killed. Will always used to say; Dixon’s don’t get lucky, we get smart. I like to think I got smart by listening to you. Following your lead. Ain’t your attack dog, but ain’t no useless baggage either. I die out there? Fucking fine, so be it, I had a good ride. But I ain’t playing in their hand just ‘cause I wanna prove I got balls of steel. I just want to help. I can’t just sit here and do nothing when-‘

There’s a knock on the door.

Daryl takes his feet off the desk and gets up to throw the butt of his cigarette out of the window.

Maggie sighs and runs a hand over her face. ‘Come in.’

It’s Earl, who seems to sense that his timing is all wrong. ‘Sorry. I can come back later.’

‘No, it’s fine. Did you need something?’

He holds up a package. ‘It’s for Daryl, actually. Your order.’

Daryl whirls around on his heels and smiles at the sight of a package in the blacksmith’s hands. Wrapped in cloth, tied together with string. He hurries over and takes it with a grin which fades with a frown when he feels the weight. It’s heavier than he’d expected. ‘Thank you.’

‘What is it?’ Maggie asks curiously.

‘Open it up,’ Earl says with a nod at the desk. ‘See if you like them.’

‘Them?’ Daryl walks over to the desk and puts the package down. He pulls at one end of the string until it falls away. With careful fingers, he peels back the layers of cloth until he’s staring down at the most beautiful set of knives he’s ever seen. The metal gleams. The handles are made of dark wood, but the engravings seem like silvery scars on the surface. Finer than before; clearly taken from his drawings. Wild flowers cover the entire surface, and some vines even spill over onto the metal.

Daryl picks one up. It’s cool to his touch but warming quick. It balances on the palm of his hand. It’s long, even longer than his old knife had been, and wicked sharp by the looks of it.

‘How does it feel?’ Earl asks.

‘Perfect,’ Daryl breathes as he picks the other up, too. ‘Just – _perfect_.’

‘Thought you might like to take up dual-wielding. It’ll take some time getting used to, but I don’t think you’ll have a problem picking it up,’ Earl says with a proud grin when he sees Daryl flip one of the knives and catch it easily. ‘Jesus can teach you. I can make the darn things, but I’m afraid I never got the art of wielding them down myself.’

‘Thank you so much.’ Daryl puts the knives down carefully and surprises the older man by giving him a fierce hug. ‘You didn’t have to do that. _Thank you_.’

Earl gives him an awkward pat on the back. ‘Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome, sonny.’ He gives Maggie a smile when Daryl steps back again, ‘sorry for interrupting, ma’am.’

‘Thank you, Earl,’ Maggie says as he takes his leave. She looks down at the weapons. ‘They really are beautiful.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl switches his own knife out for a new one and studies the other. ‘I thought he’d just make one, copy the one I lost, you know? Shit. The one Tai gave me was fine, but… I feel better with my own gear. Stronger.’

‘Yeah.’ Maggie looks torn for a moment but then gets up. ‘There’s something else I’ve been keeping from you, aside from the post.’

‘What’s that?’ Daryl asks but he’s still admiring his knife. He rolls it over the palm of his hand, whips it up before catching it again and slashing thin air with it.

Behind him, Maggie opens a closet.

‘I gotta get a new sheath for the second one. Think breakfast is over already? I’m gonna go ask if Hannah has one that-‘ Daryl’s voice trails away when he looks at Maggie. His hands shake as he puts the knife down. ‘No way.’

‘Scouts found it in a shack somewhere a while ago. I didn’t want to give it to you. I thought you would take it and… It doesn’t matter. Hugo checked it over – it’s good. Here.’

‘Are you sure?’

Maggie laughs softly but her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. ‘Of course. It’s yours.’

Daryl walks over with baited breath. ‘Thanks mom,’ he whispers before taking the gift. It’s heavy in his hands, but so familiar that he beams at it. This one is also black but lacking the scratches of wear and tear his old one had.

With a swift move, he turns on his heels and brings it up. With one eye closed, he looks down the sight of his new crossbow.


	5. Eshu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you were waiting yesterday. Thank Anon, for checking in.
> 
> All's well.

* * *

There’s a rabbit caught in the snare. The coat is filthy and matted under its belly, stripped bare where the wire bit in the nape when the animal had tried to escape. It’s hanging just above the ground. The limbs are limp and not rigid yet even though it must have died during the night. Luckily, there are no bite marks on it either. Sometimes walkers find the animals just in time but lose interest in favor of something bigger and better; a possum moving in the leaves, a deer further on or any other animal that is still alive. Finding torn up bits or bitten game is worse than empty snares, Daryl thinks as he grabs the animal and releases the noose.

Putting up snares had been one of the first things Will had taught him. Six years old, setting one up with shaking hands. He remembers feeling proud that Will obviously thought he was old enough to go out hunting. Hopeful that maybe soon, he’d take him out on one of his trips and not leave him with the neighbors or his mom’s old friends.

It had been at the beginning of spring. One of his clumsy snares right at the border of the tree line. He’d been surprised when his dad had gotten up and started to walk away, back towards the river where his fishing gear was. No point in waiting around. That’s what snares are for; they do the work for you.

Daryl hadn’t seen the difference between waiting for fish to bite and a rabbit to run into his snare, so he’d spend the whole afternoon on his belly in the tall grass. The earth cold beneath him, the smell hitting him with every baited breath he took. With the sun beating down on him, he’d almost fallen asleep until movement near the snare had caught his eye.

With adrenaline spiking in his veins, he’d watched how a rabbit came running down the path. Skipping over the root, heading straight for –

It took the rabbit a couple of minutes to die. Legs kicking, a distressed noise escaping it before the body finally stopped moving. He remembers watching in horror, only then fully realizing what they’d set up. With dirt on his hands and arms, he’d ran back to Will, voice so shrill that it caused the fish to flee.

He doesn’t really remember what came after. Another lesson, Will giving him something else to cry about probably. It doesn’t matter.

Daryl hooks the rabbit onto his belt and resets the snare. An opossum got caught in another snare, but the rest of them are empty. He moves some to better spots and resets them all before moving on to the lake. There are ducks right near the water line.

It’s easy enough to line up the shot and shoot the fattest one. The others disappear in a panic. He quickly snatches the animal up and moves on before the noise can attract any walkers. It pains him that he can’t find any deer tracks, but he’s seen the kitchen work miracles with small game.

He knows the game he’s bringing back isn’t even the most important thing right now.

The walk around the lake is quiet. He can imagine this place on an Old-World Sunday morning, kids on the swings and parents sitting on blankets in the grass nearby. Dogs running after sticks, joggers running around the water before heading into the forest beyond or on their way back to the car park.

There are still a couple of cars parked there. A pick-up that has rusted through its axes and is now on the floor. The back is a mess of rotten leaves and the remains of a sleeping bag, rusty cans and crushed plastic bottles. Someone must have camped out in it at one point. Daryl jumps up on the hood and wonders how long it will take before nature has reclaimed enough of the world to wipe out human traces like these.

There’s a black truck parked on the other side. The windows are broken, the paint has chipped and there is fungus growing on the seats, but Daryl likes to think it used to be a pretty sweet ride. Big headlights, high above the ground, wheels as tall as Judith. Maybe, if he’d become a great tattoo artist in the city, he could have had one of those. Or maybe, if he’d stayed at home, he would have eventually wound up in a garage where he could service such a great ride.

He walks alongside the road, careful to stay right on the tree line. It feels good to be out here again, even better now that there’s a crossbow hanging from his shoulder. He has cleaned out his room, sorting his bolts and throwing his old ones out. There’s a quiver clipped to his bow, but he likes to carry an extra one when he’s out on runs. It’s fastened to his belt, right behind the sheath of his knife.

There’s a crossroad.

Left leads to Alexandria. It’s tempting, even though it would take him a couple of days to reach it by foot.

Straight ahead is forbidden. The road is marked by two burned-out cars and some walker traps. There are none of those in there but the spikes are bloody so he knows a patrol must have cleared them not too long ago. He looks beyond the structure, to the winding road that leads to Whisperer territory. He hates that they ever laid claim to the land they’d work so hard to secure. A land that stretches for miles and miles, right between the communities, at the heart of everything. The deal has gone to hell of course, and he’s glad of that, even though he’ll live to regret the reason.

The urge to hop over the barricade surges. It always shimmers in his veins, mixing with the Dixon-rage that sometimes still escapes his control.

He hitches his bow higher onto his shoulder and turns right to head on home. It has become easier to keep a level head over the years. At the prison, he’d still gotten into a lot of fights over stupid things. People looking at him the wrong way, saying something that upset him, even them being thoughtful could have set him off. The first time Shane had parked his ass in one of the cells to cool off had baffled him, feeling both betrayed and humiliated, but after a couple of times, he kind of started to like knowing what to expect when he broke the rules.

The quiet time in his cell had done the trick, and through the years he has learned to give himself some space to calm down. He can walk away more easily now, doesn’t feel the constant need to prove or defend himself, but he still fails sometimes of course.

It takes him a short while to reach their own territory. The first signs are the walker traps he comes across. These have been cleared out too, which doesn’t surprise him. The snares he’d been assigned are close to their outposts, farthest away from any other colony. What everyone assumes are the safest ones. The implications of that don’t bother him right now, though he would have bristled at that before.

‘Little prince inbound,’ he announces with his radio. ‘North side.’

Normally, he doesn’t bother to call in like this. People were so used to him being outside and coming and going as he pleased that the guards never took him for a threat. One person moving around in the woods wasn’t ever enough to set the alarm off either, so he got away with not following protocol for a while.

Nobody would set the alarm off now either. Many people saw him leave early in the morning, and the whispers carried the news to the rest, no doubt. He’s not calling in to ease their nerves, however. There are several people waiting by the radio with baited breath though. He doesn’t want them to worry more than they already do.

There still aren’t people tending to the fields outside of Hilltop Colony. The harvest is in danger but Maggie refuses to let the farmers out. It’s still too dangerous, even though everything is quiet. He walks through the fields, dried out stalks brush over the palm of his hand. Hilltop could easily survive a wasted harvest, but his heart goes out to Beth and her people, as well as Oceanside.

His sharp whistle causes the gate to open up.

While the whole world seems to be quiet, Hilltop is uncharacteristically loud. The noise of so many people trapped inside the walls seems deafening to him after the stillness of the woods, but he has to say that he warms to it quickly. Children running after each other, the soldiers playing a game of cards near the post, Earl who shouts something at his apprentices. Horses gallop past, somewhere in the distance arrows whizz into a target. Steel clangs against steel near the trailers.

Normally he heads straight to the kitchen to drop his game off, but now he knocks on the door of Maggie’s office and opens the door half-way, hanging onto the doorframe to lean into the room. ‘Hey, Maggie? Sorry for interrupting. Just wanted to say; I’m back and all. No problems. It’s quiet on that side.’

Maggie seems relieved even though she hides it well from Kal and Eduardo, who are there. ‘Thank you, Dare. Any luck with the snares?’

He wrinkles his nose. ‘Nah, not really. Rabbit, duck – some small stuff. I’ve reset them, better luck tomorrow.’

‘Let’s hope so,’ Maggie nods. ‘Oh! Josh picked up the mail from the safe house.’ She holds out two letters. ‘Here.’

‘Where are they from? Is one from-‘

‘The Kingdom,’ Maggie says with a sympathetic smile, ‘and Washington of course.’

‘Oh,’ he plucks them out of her hand. ‘Thanks.’

It takes him two minutes to deliver the game to the kitchen, two more minutes until he climbs up the final staircase to reach the watchtower atop of Barrington House. From here, he can see the entire community and the woods beyond. The sounds and voices have faded to white noise.

‘Stealing my spot now?’ Daryl asks as he walks over to the wooden structure in the middle. He hops onto a beam and opens his first letter eagerly.

‘It’s quiet here,’ Paul says. He’s sharpening his knife but shoot him a look when he sits down. ‘More love letters?’

‘Now don’t be jealous, Paul,’ Daryl murmurs as he reads the letter quickly.

Paul smirks. ‘You guys radio all the time, what could he possibly have to say?’

‘We see each other every day, and you’re still talking. Shut the fuck up, man, I’m trying to read.’ His eyes track the words, finger gliding over the paper to keep track. When he’s done, he puts it down with a big grin on his face.

‘Well, at least he makes you happy,’ Paul says with a huff of laughter.

‘Ain’t Tai’s letter, stop sticking your nose in,’ Daryl says as he looks at the scout. ‘I went out this morning, everything was quiet. Cleared a few snares. Reset them.’

‘Oh, did you?’ Paul’s voice is unusually high while he fakes innocence. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

Daryl gives him a look and activates his radio.

The one hidden in Paul’s pocket crackles.

The younger man scoffs before he laughs. ‘Pssh. And they say I got sticky fingers.’

Paul laughs and knocks their shoulders together. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

The safe house is an old hunting cabin made of wood. The floorboards are dodgy at best and the roof leaks in places, but it’s in on the edge of the woods and well-hidden now that nature has reclaimed most paths. There’s a small clearing right in front of it, the earth blackened by the many fires that have been lit in a stone circle.

Daryl sits on a big rock nearby as he writes his letter to Taiwo. It’s short, Paul was right; they talk on the radio most of the time. The letter is mostly a list of descriptions that go along with the small sketches he likes to send his boyfriend. There’s usually one of Hershel in there to show how much he has grown. This time, he has added a sketch of the lake as well. His best rendition of his new knives though he thinks it doesn’t do them justice. A random doodle of the sheep out in their pen. He’d struggled with the texture of their coats, so they’re mostly little blobs scattered on the paper and he knows it’ll make Taiwo laugh.

 _Sheep_. He underlines it three times with a grin on his own face.

‘It’s good to have you out with us again.’

Daryl looks over at Kal, who’s leaning on his spear nearby. ‘Yeah.’

‘I was afraid Maggie would never clear you for a shift again.’

‘Well, she was thinkin’ about it for sure. Changed her mind.’

‘I’m glad,’ Kal says as he scans the tree line when a couple of birds suddenly take flight nearby. ‘You’re good out in the field.’

‘Thanks.’ He puts the letter away and stretches while checking the sun. ‘What do you make of all this? It being so quiet?’

‘I don’t know what’s going on. The area is big, sure, but we would have found something by now. We found a couple sites of course but they’d been abandoned a while ago, could have been from before, even. It doesn’t help that Alexandria isn’t cooperating of course – we need to cover their ground as well now.’

Daryl hums. ‘Someone said Maggie was sending out patrols to places she knew they wouldn’t be. That it was all a bunch of bullshit.’

Kal uses his spear to draw a figurine in the grass. ‘Honestly? We knew your patrols wouldn’t find anything. It wasn’t… _bullshit_ , but…. It was mostly to clear the walker traps, check for herds, the usual. Under the guise of building up your confidence again.’ He gives the younger man a sympathetic look. ‘We thought it was best.’

‘I guess it was,’ Daryl says. ‘Sorry you guys had to babysit me like that.’

Kal scoffs. ‘It wasn’t like that. Someone had to go on those patrols. Yeah, maybe I would have liked Jesus to be on a patrol with higher priority but…’ he laughs and shakes his head, ‘ _Maggie’s orders_ , he’d say. The little shit.’

Daryl laughs softly. ‘He was almost worse than Maggie.’

‘Yeah. Wonder why.’

The tips of Daryl’s ears burn. ‘Shut up.’

‘Bet he was happy to give you some _private tutor sessions_ for _double-wielding_.’

‘Seriously, shut up.’

Kal laughs, ‘I’m just messing with you. You’ve picked it up quick. Some other dude tried to copy Jesus in the beginning, almost sliced his own forearm open with his own knife. Jesus offered to help teach him of course but…’

Daryl frowns, ‘but what?’

‘Guy was an asshole. He…’ Kal scratches the back of his neck, ‘he didn’t think someone like Jesus could teach him anything about combat.’

‘What do you mean someone like Jesus?’

‘You know,’Kal mutters. ‘A gay guy.’

‘Oh. Right.’ The urge to ask for the man’s name dies just before he asks the questions. If the guy wants to get injured by his own prejudice, he’s welcome to do so. There are a couple of people within the community that go out of their way to avoid dealing with him and Paul, though they know better than to speak ill about them behind their backs. ‘Well, his fucking loss, right? Asshole.’

They’re quiet for a bit, until Kal scrapes his boot over the floor. ‘Do you think Alexandria is going to… you know? Come back into the fold?’

‘They haven’t left. They’re just…. I don’t know, man. I hope so.’

‘Yeah. Me too. I’m still glad you found Washington DC though. Mason’s a good ally to have. He’s been speaking to the other stations as well, they’re more open to meeting with us now, joining us.’

Daryl smiles. ‘I know.’

Kal laughs again. ‘Of course. Yeah. You would know that, sorry.’

‘No problem.’ The sound of rapidly approaching horses causes him to get up and put his backpack on. The crossbow is heavy in his hands after all this time but as familiar as his armor. With his hand shielding his eyes from the sun, he watches how Yumiko and Magna come galloping down the small rider’s path.

It’s unusual to ever see them on separate patrols. They’ve quickly become a team Kal regularly relies on, whether it’s clearing paths or delivering messages to other communities. Fierce fighters in their own right, but absolutely lethal when together. The pair always reminds him of Rick and Michonne, so used to having each other’s back when in a tight spot.

‘Couple of stragglers,’ Yumiko says as she comes to a halt next to Kal. ‘No signs of any others.’

Magna lets her horse come so close to Daryl that the younger man backs up instinctively. She points the tip of her knife at him with a dark look.

He holds his hands up, ‘Maggie’s orders.’

‘He’s fine, Maggie knows he’s out here,’ Kal says as he holds the reins of Yumiko’s horse as she gets off to walk beside him. ‘We’ve been clearing out the traps. Dare, take point.’

Reluctantly, Daryl turns on his heels to lead the way back to Hilltop colony. Behind him, Magna jumps down from her horse to join her girlfriend and Kal, behind him.

‘Nothing again,’ Yumiko says. ‘We can’t keep missing them, that’s impossible, Kal. All of the old camps have been abandoned and we haven’t found a single new one. They’re gone.’

‘So they just vanished into thin air?’ Kal asks. ‘No. they’re up to something. We still haven’t covered the areas near Alexandria. They must know Michonne is not sending out any patrols. They could be hiding out right on their doorstep!’

‘We don’t know what Michonne is doing,’ Magna bites back.

Daryl turns around again and walks backwards. ‘Has anyone asked Lydia? Maybe she knows a spot you guys have missed and where they-‘

Magna rolls her eyes. ‘We aren’t _missing_ _spots_.’

‘Well, you haven’t found them yet so-‘

‘Oh, _shut up_ , at least we’ve been out here.’

Daryl glares at her and works his jaw.

‘Magna,’ Yumiko says softly, eyes down.

Kal eyes the younger man warily, ready to intervene.

Daryl holds onto the strap of his bow. He nods and turns back around, ‘whatever.’

About two hours later, he’s sitting on the table in the conference room. There’s a big map pinned onto the wall. Large areas have been crossed out with various colors. A couple of landmarks have been added with a black marker. The stalled military vehicles near the Kingdom, the river crossing by Oceanside, the small town right in front of Alexandria. Various outposts on important crossroads, the places where you can go up the highway.

‘What’s that?’ Lydia asks as she points at an unmarked area right next to Alexandria.

‘A quarry. It’s like a deep pit or something, where they used to mine,’ he says when she frowns at the strange word. ‘Walkers got stuck in there years ago, hundreds of them. We had to lure them out and away. The road leads straight to Alexandria, see?’

Lydia nods and sits down beside him. ‘I don’t know where they could have gone. I’m sorry.’

‘Thanks for trying,’ Daryl mutters. ‘You saw something last time, I thought we’d get lucky twice.’

‘Sorry,’ Lydia repeats softly. Her legs sway back and forth. ‘What’s over there? To our right?’

‘Nothing much for a long time. Another city eventually, not too big. It fell pretty early on so they used to make runs out there. Paul says it ain’t worth the trouble no more. City’s attracts them – walkers, you know? It’s the noise. Even all fucked up, a city still makes a lot of noise. Others that are trapped, stuff just breaking. Tai says it’s like the city’s alive.’

‘Do you like the city?’

Daryl wrinkles his nose and shrugs. ‘Kinda fun sometimes – there’s loads of stuff to find still, and I ain’t really used to it so it’s fun, I guess, but I like the forest better. What about you? Did you grow up in a city?’

‘I think so. It’s hard to… I don’t really remember.’ She looks at the map again, ‘it was cold in Washington.’

‘In the tunnels – yeah. It’s always cold down there.’ Daryl rubs at his nose. ‘Are people treating you better now?’

Lydia nods. ‘Thanks. You don’t have to pretend anymore.’

‘Pretend?’

‘To be my friend.’

‘Oh. Yeah. Vera and them thought you were all right, so… I was angry, after Merle, then Rick. Didn’t wanna…’ he sighs, ‘sorry if I were a dick.’

‘I get it,’ Lydia says. Her dark hair falls in front of her face but she pushes it behind her ear again. ‘Vera was always nice to me.’

‘We should have let you go with them,’ Daryl mutters. ‘People down there would have been a lot nicer to ya. And you know? With your mom… was hard enough to deal with, I guess.’

Her face hardens. ‘She was a monster.’

Daryl shrugs. ‘That’s what people used to call my dad too. That don’t make it hurt less.’ He watches how she fights against her sudden tears. ‘But it’s cold in Washington, so maybe it’s best you stay here. Maggie’s always naggin’ I need to hang out with people my own age, so… you ain’t too bad, I guess.’

She smiles, sudden and gone quick. ‘We didn’t find too many teenagers out there. Those we did… they didn’t make it. Broken bones. Sickness. Some became guardians.’

He shivers. ‘ _Walkers_.’

‘Right. Yeah.’ She looks down at her knees. ‘Walkers.’

‘Takes a special kind of people to make it, I guess,’ he aims a light kick at her boot just when his radio crackles. The message causes him to jump down from the table. ‘Come on, let’s go!’

Together, they cut through the hall and dodge people out on the porch. Lydia darts down the set of stairs while Daryl hops over the railing with a soft grunt. Chickens screech as the two teenagers blow past them. People look up and shake their heads fondly at the Dixon and narrow their eyes at the girl. It’s not unusual to see them together; Daryl trains her often and Lydia likes to sit near him whenever he draws outside to enjoy the protection his presences gives her. They don’t like her being near to him, but they hate going against him more so most keep their mouths shut.

The gates are already closing again when Daryl stops running. He beams.

Julia hasn’t changed much over the past months. The long hair now in a thick braid to keep her safe on the road, a half-bow strapped to her saddle and a knife on her belt. She sits tall on a gray horse, gloved hand giving her horse’s strong neck an appreciative pat as she looks around. It’s all new to her. The only other community she has ever visited is Alexandria, during the fair.

Dante’s joyful greeting attracts her attention.

Daryl looks at Lydia with a big grin on his face before he runs over.

There’s one rider. And two horses.

‘-are you alone?’ Dante asks as he hugs Julia. ‘You should have radioed, we would have made sure you got here safely.’

‘I got here safely,’ Julia points out. ‘And you know what the King has ordered. He’s convinced they have a radio, we shouldn’t be using them anymore.’

Dante shakes his head. ‘They can’t have –‘ he laughs when he sees the teenager approaching, ‘but he has one, that’s for sure. Slow down, Dare!’

‘Heard we had a visitor!’ Daryl laughs as he comes to a stop in front of Julia and hugs her. ‘It’s good to see you again!’

‘You too,’ she says as she leans back and studies his face for a moment. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other and he’s used to people doing it by now. He supposes he has changed a lot over the year. ‘God,’ she breathes, hand coming up to cup his cheek. ‘You’re starting to look like him.’

It’s like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water over him. The coldness soaks him to the bone. He takes a wobbly step back and tries to laugh it off, but it sounds painful. ‘Let’s hope not, right?’

‘Julia!’ Maggie comes running over, too. ‘Welcome to Hilltop! We didn’t know you were coming so soon!’

Julia looks at Daryl. ‘Didn’t you get my letter?’

Daryl winces as he looks at his mom, ‘I told you about the request we’ve put in!’

‘ _Dante_ eventually told me about the request,’ Maggie says sharply but her eyes sparkle.

‘Ain’t my fault he’s a fucking rat!’

Dante opens his mouth but sees that the teenager is laughing and trying to bait him. ‘You took too long with telling her, man,’ he says instead. ‘I’m not going to be in the doghouse because you’re a coward.’

‘Whatever, whatever,’ Daryl waves him off and turns back to Julia. ‘So…’

‘So…’ Julia drags the word out and laughs at the barely contained excitement of the teenager. ‘I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet,’ she walks back to her horse and unties a lead rope from her saddle. Soft, soothing noises cause the second horse to step forward. ‘The King had a whole speech prepared for you. Something about uniting the new world, a shining light, a beacon even, on and on it went,’ Julia says as she leads the horse gently towards the Dixon. ‘All to say; he is very fond of you, and you’re very welcome. No debt is owed.’

She holds out the rope.

Daryl takes it with a trembling hand. ‘What’s their name?’

‘She’s Eshu,’ Julia says with a proud smile, ‘named after the servant of Ifa, who was said to be a messenger between heaven and earth. The King knows many stories about them; he thought the name would be fitting. Eshu is not only known to be a great helper, a protective spirit, but is said to have a counterpart, or perhaps just a darker side. In legends of old, Eshu is a trickster. A true god of mischief.’

Daryl beams, ‘he likes his stories, your king.’

‘Almost as much as he likes his people.’

Eshu is one of the most beautiful horses he’s ever seen, though he suspects he’s already biased. She’s lean and tall, clearly built for speed and endurance, just like Khamsin had been. The mane reminds Daryl of Judith’s hair when she was younger; so light that it’s almost white. Her coat is light, too, with only darker streaks around her eyes and feet. The color of the sand on a hot summer’s day at Oceanside.

‘Hey you,’ Daryl says softly as he reaches up to rub at the skin just under her forelock. ‘Hello.’

‘I’ve trained her myself,’ Julia says. ‘She’s ready to go out, but you’ll want to take it easy the first couple of days of course, get to know each other. Her temper isn’t as notorious as Khamsin’s had been,’ she knocks her shoulder against Dante’s, ‘didn’t want to give you a hard time again.’

‘So she’ll actually go into the stable and not try to kick me in the balls?’

‘No promises,’ Julia laughs, ‘but it should be easier. She’s not too fond of water though, so be careful if you want to cross a stream or she might buck. You still have a saddle for her, right Daryl?’

Maggie’s hand lands on Daryl’s shoulder when he doesn’t answer. ‘Dare. Julia asked if you have a saddle.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ he has trouble tearing his gaze away from the horse. ‘Nobody has been using Khamsin’s old one, guess we can use that one, right?’

Dante nods. ‘That’ll be good. Come,’ he says to Julia, touching her arm to get her attention, ‘I’ll show you.’

Daryl strokes his hand over Eshu’s warm neck and follows the curve of her shoulder blade to her back. He remembers being not tall enough to brush Nervous Nelly down in Hershel senior’s barn, needing a small stool to reach. With a smile, he turns to Maggie. ‘Cool huh?’

‘She’s beautiful, Dare.’ Her smile seems sad. ‘Remember to radio Ezekiel to tell him thanks.’

‘Hey,’ he darts forward to take her wrist. ‘I promise I’ll be careful.’

‘Sometimes that’s not enough.’

‘Mom…’

Maggie pulls him in for a hug. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin it. Take her to the stables to see if the saddle fits, give her some food and water. It was probably a long ride for her today.’

When Hershel walks, he looks like a drunken sailor. It’s one of Daryl’s favorite things about him. Pudgy arms outstretched, cheeks chubby when he smiles, wobbling until he eventually falls over. Sometimes it takes him by surprise and he’ll start to cry until someone lifts him to his feet again, other times he’ll just continue on hands and feet instead. Right now he’s on his way to grab Paul’s leg.

Daryl watches from across the room. The little boy toddles over, swaying left and right but eyes always fixed on the big pockets of Paul’s cargo pants. They make for easy handles, and double the fun when he gets his foot into one so he can try to climb up.

There’s a carpet in the way though. The edge of it is not even an inch high but it causes the kid to sway his arms and-

Paul reaches behind him and he catches Hershel blindly. Fingers splayed out on the small chest and tummy, pushing him gently back onto his own feet before the man looks down and over his shoulder. ‘Careful buddy. Yeah.’ he smiles while Hershel holds his hands out. He easily lifts the child into his lap and peppers him with kisses. ‘Hey you.’

Daryl smiles at the pair.

‘Remember when he was scared of him?’ Maggie asks. She’s curled up on the couch next to her son.

‘You left those two alone, you never knew who’d burst into tears first,’ Daryl says. He’s finishing up another letter.

Maggie puts her head on the headrest and sighs. Her finger brushes against the edge of his paper. ‘Telling Tai all about Eshu?’

‘It’s for Carl. Dean puts them in the box at the safehouse near Alexandria for me. Carl never picks them up but… just in case he changes his mind, you know?’ He puts his head on the headrest as well. ‘Do you think they’re okay?’

‘No,’ Maggie reaches out to brush the dark blonde hair out of his eyes. ‘They need time.’

‘I don’t understand why he ain’t talking to me,’ Daryl whispers. ‘I’m his _brother_. I can _help_.’

‘Sometimes it takes someone a while to realize they need help.’

‘I wanna go see them. If I just turn up they’ll _have to_ let me in.’

‘Dare…’

Whatever she was about to say next is lost when there’s a commotion outside. The door of the office is banged open, there are running footsteps inside and then coming back. Someone yells for Maggie and then Paul, another voice directs them to the living room.

It’s Ellie who comes storming in, a radio clutched in her hand. She’s panting, eyes wide as she holds out the crackling device. ‘It’s Kal,’ she says as Maggie jumps up. ‘He’s found them.’


	6. 18 miles out

* * *

It strikes him as odd that Maggie is joining them. There’s been an unspoken rule between them ever since Hershel was born; one of them stays back in case something terrible happens. They’ve seen too many orphans, too many cases of kids left behind and too many people who had kids entrusted to them when they weren’t ready. There have only been a handful of times when the rule has been broken; when Maggie met him out on the road after he’d been taken by the whisperers, or during the war.

He knows she finds it difficult to stay behind most of the time. She’d rather be out there, right beside her people to guide them onto the right path, though her love for Hershel has persuaded her to err on the side of caution. Instead, she would trust Daryl to complete the objective, trust Kal to not lead them astray, and Paul to keep an eye out. It must be a terrible thing, he thinks, to watch how your people go out to fight without being able to stand beside them.

Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised that she’s coming this time, he thinks when he looks over his shoulder to see Dante standing on the porch with Hershel on his hip. It’s not really just the two of them, after all. There’d be somebody to love and raise Hershel as their own. He’s truly grateful and glad, but he doubts he’ll ever get truly used to it.

He watches how Dante curls an arm around Maggie to pull her into a tight hug before they walk down the lawn together. Hand-in-hand, touching from fingertips to shoulders. The sight of it would have made him smile if not for the weapons on Maggie’s hips, the automatic gun slung over her left shoulder and the gloves she likes to wear during combat. They part at the last second, with Maggie heading over to Eduardo.

‘How’s the saddle?’

Daryl shifts and nods down at Dante, ‘yeah, good.’ He reaches down to pat Eshu on the shoulder, ‘you couldn’t convince her to stay here?’

‘She has made up her mind. You Rhee’s are a stubborn bunch.’

Sometimes he wonders how he feels about Maggie keeping Glenn’s last name. Nothing ever seems to bother him; how everyone who knew Glenn keeps gushing about how much Hershel looks like him, how they like to keep his memory alive by sharing stories about him when the family comes together, or that Maggie keeps the picture of Glenn and him on their windowsill. He hopes that never changes; the ease with which Dante stepped into that void without pushing the memories out. That it never becomes a source of anger or anguish on either side.

‘Look after her?’ Dante asks as he looks up at the teenager, high on his new horse.

‘Promise.’ He leans down to tap Hershel’s nose, ‘you look after him, okay bro? We all got jobs to do. That one is yours.’

Hershel babbles loudly while flapping his arms. The words are half-formed and sometimes only right by accident. He’s become pretty good at saying “mama”, though he uses it to get whatever he wants, no matter if Maggie is actually around.

Daryl straightens up again. ‘I best get ready. See you soon, Dante.’ With a clack of his tongue and his heels lightly digging in, Eshu turns in a tight circle before streaking past the other horses to get to the front of the group. He doesn’t suppose that this was what Julia had in mind for them bonding, but they need every rider out there.

The gates open up.

There’s a familiar rush of adrenaline as the soldiers around him start to move. He casts one more look over his shoulder at Barrington House, where most of the people left behind are watching and waving. Eventually, he has to tear his gaze away and let Eshu follow the stream of riders before them. The sound of hooves hitting the dry earth, dust billowing up around them, Daryl laughs as he leans forward to move with his horse.

They ride down the path, along the roads, in a pace that most horses can keep up until they reach their destination. Just like old times however, Daryl can feel the energy of his horse, can feel the desire to run, and he can’t wait to see what she can do. With a sharp whistle the only explanation to Maggie and Eduardo at the front of the group, he veers to the left where there are sprawling fields and lets the reins go.

She’s fast. Hesitant at first, not quite understanding what he wants from her, but catching on quick when there’s no resistance when she speeds up. The wind howls in his ears. He’s glad he’s wearing the baseball cap on his belt. He’d felt pretty silly the first time Khamsin had taken off and he had to go back for it when it blew off. It’s been a while since he’s felt so elated. So alive.

When he finally approaches a small patch of bushes and trees meant to break the wind on these open plains, he forces her slow down. Maybe with Khamsin he’d been able to go through it, weave past the first couple of trees and then jump the bushes, but he’s not confident enough to do that with a new horse yet. So they slow down and catch their breaths, lingering at a crossroads until the group catches up again.

‘ _Are you out of your mind?_ ’ Maggie hisses after galloping the last stretch to reach him first.

‘What?’ Daryl asks as he drinks some water from his canteen. ‘Just checking up ahead.’

‘Get back in the group.’

‘Good lord, fine.’ He rolls his eyes and waits until Paul nearly passes him to get Eshu to jump back into the group.

The scout looks amused but holds his tongue.

‘If you got something to say, you might as well spit it out,’ Daryl grouses. ‘Lookin’ like the cat that caught the canary over there. I weren’t even out of her fucking _sight_! I was just… fucking about some,’ he finishes, less heated now as he pats his horse on the neck. ‘It’s still an hour until we even get to Kal, let alone some goddamn whisperers.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Paul says. ‘They could be anywhere. And Maggie is just nervous for you, give her a break. Don’t go storming off on your horse like that. You know nobody can keep up.’

‘Fine,’ Daryl says and he tries to look like he’s not sulking. ‘Do you still have that radio? Do we know where we’ll be meeting the others?’

‘No, I handed it back in with Ellie. You can ride up to Eduardo and ask, he probably has one.’ Paul frowns and looks at him, ‘where’s yours?’

‘Ran out of juice,’ Daryl admits, ‘Ellie weren’t too happy with me, said I could borrow one in the evening to talk to Tai but no more keeping it around. She promised to come get me if Carl... you know, but… Guess I should play by the rules if it means I can get my gear back, go out there again. Prove to Maggie she can trust me.’ He rubs at his nose, ‘why did you hand in yours?’

Paul shrugs, ‘you told me to back off.’

‘You had one a couple of days ago to check whether I’d come back after hunting.’

‘And you came back.’

He’s not quite sure what to say to that. There’s unexpected pride swelling in his chest which causes him to sit up straighter, but his ears also burn when he ducks his head. ‘Yeah – well, thanks.’ He readjusts his baseball cap. ‘You know that parking lot near the lake? With that big black truck? Pretty sweet ride.’

‘It would have been, yeah,’ Paul muses.

‘Did you ever have a car like that?’

Paul laughs. ‘No. No, my rides were not that sweet. I drove some second-hand – well, fifth or sixth-hand Toyota. It was gray. Smelled weird no matter what I did,’ he says with a scrunched-up nose. ‘There was always something wrong with it – brakes making a funny sound, lights not working, oil leaking everywhere but I’ve got to admit… it never stalled on me.’

Daryl laughs. ‘Well, that’s good, I guess.’

‘I didn’t care about cars, as long as it got me from A to B. One of my friends from downtown though, they were car crazy and they took me to this car convention one time to go see…’

Daryl listens to the story. He’s glad that a sense of normalcy is returning between the two of them. That not every conversation they have, has to be about his state of mind or well-being anymore. That Paul doesn’t pick his every sentence apart in a search for alternative meanings and they can joke around like they used to. He likes hearing stories about Paul from before the turn, mostly because he thinks not many people know them.

In return, Daryl tells Paul stories about the group; the fact that Michonne likes comics almost as much as him and Carl, that Beth’s first drink had been peach schnapps and that Felix had always wanted to be a soldier. About the first time Glenn ate squirrel without realizing it, how Aaron and Eric would invite him for dinner every couple of days, the party they had in Alexandria.

‘Did you like to party? Like, before.’

Paul pulls a face. ‘It was never my first choice. I was always hoping we’d stay in at the last second, order some pizza, watch a movie, stuff like that, but my friends used to drag me out to some clubs. I liked it once we were there, I suppose. Just felt like a lot of hassle beforehand.’

‘What was a club like?’ Daryl asks because he’s only ever been to that seedy bar in town, and people’s living rooms. A party was a bonfire in the middle of the trailer park, or watching fireworks down by the lake.

‘Loud,’ Paul says. ‘Hot. People used to smoke inside which was gross.’ He tries to think of something else, ‘the drinks were expensive.’

‘Did you dance?’

Paul laughs softly at the younger man’s eagerness, eyes shining brightly. ‘Yes,’ he says, a hand comes up to cover his reddening face, ‘ _badly_. We used to have these mobile phones, right? They could take pictures and record things.’

‘Yeah!’ Daryl says because they find them on walkers all the time. They’re useless now. Water damage, broken screens, dead batteries and no signal – though he knows that Ellie likes to mess around with them in her free time to try to get them running again. Merle used to have one, he’d let Daryl play games on it sometimes though it could be gone the next day, serving as some kind of payment to some dealer. ‘They recorded you? Ahw man, wish I could see that. You danced at the fair!’ he suddenly remembers. ‘You like dancing?’

‘No,’ Paul snorts. ‘And dancing in a club and dancing at the fair with Michonne? _World of difference_.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yes. Just trust me.’

Daryl laughs softly. ‘Do you think I would have liked it?’

‘I didn’t know you before,’ Paul says, ‘but if we found one now, got it up and running, got your friends over? I think you’d love it.’

‘You’d have to teach me how to dance in a club!’

Paul laughs but shakes his head. ‘Trust me, you don’t want that. Turns out, you actually have to have a sense of rhythm to be able to dance. I can side-step and twirl Michonne fine, but dancing in a club? I was lucky half of the club was too drunk to take notice of the embarrassing attempts.’

‘Damn,’ Daryl says. ‘Maybe I wouldn’t be too good at it either then; Tai’s always laughing at my ass about my lack of rhythm and musical taste. Last time I was there, he fucking hid the entire country section of his records. I was grieving, man,’ he says when Paul laughs. ‘I needed some old guy croaking about his truck ‘nd whiskey, man.’

‘I forgot about that weird quirk of yours. Maybe a club wouldn’t have been your scene after all, and honestly, we can only thank Taiwo for trying to make you a better man, because that _country music_ –‘

‘I like it!’ Daryl protest with a laugh.

Paul only laughs, shaking his head as he checks on the people riding behind them.

By the time they finally reach their destination, Daryl’s back is hurting something fierce. There’s pain shooting down his legs to his calves, going up to his neck, even down his arms to make his fingers tingle and tremble. It’s an ache he thought he’d shaken already, but he supposes it’s been a while since he’s gone this far out. The sun is over the highest peak already; it must have been about six hours since they left Hilltop.

There’s a gas station by the side of the road, and an additional building which used to be some kind of mini mall. The front has been destroyed, either by looters, walkers or a storm and the glass panels have vanished. A couple of soldiers stay with the horses to make sure no walker stumbles across them, but most choose to hide out in the atrium to get out of the sunshine.

‘Are you okay?’

Daryl’s leaning against Eshu’s side, his face pressed into his saddle. Arms up to stretch his spine out, mouth bloody from biting on the inside of his lip. He doesn’t need to look up to know that Paul’s standing beside him again. ‘Hurts,’ he admits even though it’s obvious. ‘My back man, _fuck_!’

‘You should have said something sooner. Want me to call Maggie over?’

‘No. Let’s get out of the heat. Can you carry my gear?’ Daryl’s glad that Paul doesn’t say anything as he grabs the backpack, takes the crossbow off his shoulder and starts to head over to the building. The scout throws the first item in a corner but is more careful with the weapon. He sits down and starts to slice up an apple.

Daryl carefully lowers himself onto the floor and starts doing the stretches Harlan had taught him.

‘Better?’ Paul asks after a couple of minutes. ‘Need help?’

‘Nah, I got it. Thanks though.’ Daryl grabs his pack so his head isn’t resting on the floor. The system ceiling has come down in several places, but the outer structure seems to be perfectly fine. All around them are several big counters that must have belonged to several fast food joints. It makes him think of the kingdom, where one of cooks had made him a burger once when he’d heard the teenager had forgotten what it had tasted like. He wishes he had one of those but holds his hand out for one of the last pieces of Paul’s apple instead.

‘Do you want something?’ Paul muses while he ignores the grabby fingers in front of him. ‘Use your words, Daryl.’

‘What, you want me to beg now?’

Paul lifts an eyebrow. ‘Well, you’re already on your back so you might as well.’

Daryl laughs and blushes at the same time. ‘Can I have a piece, please Paul?’

Paul pops the last piece in his own mouth. ‘No. You have an apple of your own. What? I thought you didn’t want me to baby you anymore.’

‘Don’t mean you gotta be an asshole.’ The younger man reaches out to swat at the scout’s boot, but then just rests his hand on the warmed leather. Fingernails scratch absent-mindedly at the laces. ‘How the hell did Kal get all the way out here? It’s a six-hour ride. We never patrol this far out.’

‘They haven’t been able to find them so Maggie must be sending them out further.’

Daryl hums. With his free hand he blindly grabs his own apple out of a side pocket of his backpack and takes a bite out of it. ‘All the way over here? If you look at the communities on a map, they form a kind of circle, right? With only the Kingdom and Washington being practically next to each other. I thought they were closing the net, driving them to the middle.’

Paul shrugs. ‘Yeah. Well – Kal must have found something that led them here. I don’t know.’

‘Yeah, probably.’ He chews on his apple and feels how the flaming pain in his back slowly dies down until it simmers in his bones. The group they have with them doesn’t consist of all of their soldiers, but Maggie has brought her best. Only Aaron had to stay behind to lead the colony in Maggie’s absence.

‘Where’s the little prince?’

‘Back wall,’ someone supplies while Daryl works himself up to his elbows to look at the guard that’s coming over. He’s about Ezekiel’s age, beard pure white, stocky and with a buzzcut now that his hairline is receding. There’s not much that Daryl knows about him, except for the fact that he used to be a fire fighter. There’s an American flag tattooed on his shoulder, along with a helmet that has his station’s number on it. It’s done in color and he’d once promised the teenager that he could touch up the work if they were ever in Washington at the same time.

‘Daryl,’ he says when he spots him. ‘Maggie needs you out there.’

Nobody else is getting up. Paul quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. He’s cleaning his knife with a tissue and doesn’t object when Daryl needs to use his bent knees while getting up.

‘We going far?’ Daryl asks as he picks his crossbow up and slings it over his shoulder with a slight grimace.

‘You don’t need your horse,’ the firefighter says. He moves a couple of groups over to sit with his friends. ‘She’s waiting outside for you.’

He leaves his pack with Paul and heads outside. It doesn’t take him long to find her. Maggie is standing by the tree line, hands on the straps of her backpack as she talks to Eduardo and surprisingly enough, Kal. The man is drinking some water while he listens to the woman, but his eyes find the teenager and he says something under his breath.

Maggie turns around. ‘Dare! We were looking for you. I didn’t think you’d let Eshu out of your sight.’

Daryl glances back to where the horses are stretching their legs in the shade of the building and nearby trees. It’s easy to spot his horse; a bright streak of white and gold in the mix of brown and blacks. ‘She’s fine. What’s going on?’ He glances at Kal, ‘I thought we were meeting you up the road?’

‘I wanted to show you all this first,’ Kal says as he starts to head into the woods. ‘Come on. It’s over here.’

Daryl walks a couple of steps backwards, eyes on the building, ‘should I go get Paul?’

‘No,’ Maggie says without looking at him. ‘Just us for now. We don’t want people to trample all over the place while you have a look. It could make you miss something.’

‘Preserve the scene of the crime?’ Daryl asks with a soft huff of laughter coating the words because it reminds him of Shane lifting him clean off the ground in the prison kitchen, one hand batting his sticky fingers away from his mouth. He’d been eating his part of a chocolate bar he hadn’t shared with Shane, and the man said he had to preserve the scene of the crime until Rick could pass judgement.

‘Something like that,’ Maggie mutters.

It’s odd because Paul isn’t known to go trampling around anything. He’s not much of a hunter, but he’s quicker and quieter than most. There’s a strange feeling sinking into Daryl’s stomach and it makes him feel sick. He’s not sure what’s wrong, can’t quite put his finger on it, but everything feels strange to him. With his eyes on Maggie’s backpack, he follows her through the woods until they reach an area that is much less dense.

There must have been a fire, a long time ago, he thinks as he looks around. There are young trees here, most barely higher than him. Whip thin and crowned with bright green leaves. The area is enclosed by older trees, darker and with the rings of generations on them. The sudden change in atmosphere distracts him from the most obvious thing about that patch of new trees.

Three bodies are lying on the ground. Flies buzz happily from one to the other.

‘They’ve set up camp here,’ Kal says as he walks to the middle and nudges a circle of stones with his boot.

Daryl doesn’t need to ask how he knows it’s them. The bodies aren’t wearing any masks, but Kal’s right; they had set up a camp here. Right next to the fire pit is a wire that goes from one tree to another’s branch. Strips of skin are drying on it. When he looks around, he sees a stake rammed into the ground that reminds him too much of his brother.

‘They didn’t stay long, I don’t think,’ Kal says now.

‘How did you find this place?’ Daryl asks as he walks over to the nearest body and looks at it. It was a guy, probably a couple of years older than Kal. He frowns and touches the head, tilts it back to examine the face.

‘Don’t do that,’ Maggie says. ‘There’s an exit wound at the back. They won’t turn.’

‘Just came across it,’ Kal answers as he wanders around the campsite. ‘We saw a cluster of walkers in a field nearby. Tim was up in one of the transmission towers to get a bird’s eyes view. He thought they acted… weird. Paid off.’

‘Hmm-hmm.’ Daryl checks the other bodies. ‘Real lucky.’

Maggie looks at him.

Daryl shrugs his crossbow higher onto his shoulder. ‘About time things were starting to go our way, right?’

She doesn’t answer.

‘Yeah,’ he says softly before looking at Kal. He’s wondering how long they’re going to keep this charade up. As long as they can, probably. He opens his mouth but closes it again when he sees that Eduardo is walking around the campsite as well. The man has been Kal’s right-hand man since Daryl has known them. He looks confused.

‘What do you think happened?’ Eduardo asks as he checks whether the third body had been hit in the head. ‘Christ, look at this. You didn’t do this, right?’

Kal shakes his head. ‘We found them like this.’

The third body has a massive wound on the back of their head. Eduardo pales when he looks around and finds blood on a bigger tree nearby, where a branch had been broken off. ‘Why would they fight among themselves?’

‘They’re animals. Let’s move on,’ Kal says as he starts to walk away.

Eduardo looks at Daryl with raised eyebrows.

Maggie looks at him, too.

Daryl shrugs and follows Kal. ‘I don’t know. Maybe they plotted something, wanting to be the next alpha? ‘s what happened when I were there. They can claim the title if they win, but… good luck to anyone trying to take that asshole down.’

‘Do you mean Beta?’

‘Yeah. Ain’t no doubt he’s the new Alpha ‘round here. Might be keeping his own name because she got his dick up, being all sentimental all of a sudden – hell, I don’t know. Don’t care neither. Kal’s right. They’re animals.’

There are stone circles everywhere, which make Daryl think that the entire horde was down here. There’s a strange numbness inside his chest now that the realization of what’s happening is slowly sinking in. With his eyes on the heels of Kal’s boots, he follows him numbly until they reach yet another tree line and look out over sprawling fields that are only cut in half by a highway.

‘Oh shit,’ Eduardo says as he looks at the ground. ‘They cut through here!’

There’s a massive trail the leads into the tall grass. Shuffling feet of walkers and people have trampled the grass, their prints are in the soft earth, going off in the distance.

There’s confusion and then elation on Eduardo’s face, ‘so they _did_ leave? Holy shit, no way!’ He laughs, ‘they tucked tails and ran? I bet they knew we were closing in. There’s nothing out there!’

Daryl knows he’s right. They’re standing on the border of their own lands but the definition has always been fuzzy because there’d been no one else to claim these fields and the land beyond. They know there are small towns, a couple of areas of industry and cities further out according to the old maps, but their New World stops here. At this tree line.

He grabs the band of his crossbow and holds onto it. ‘Good thing the other communities haven’t showed up, right? Turns out we don’t need their help at all.’

Next to him, Eduardo’s laughter turns almost hysterical with relief.

Maggie does her best to smile.

Kal’s laugh sounds painful.

By the time they got back, the party had already been underway. Fires lit all over the community, people laughing and joking and cheering while the kids got to stay up late to see their returns; all of their noise spilling over the walls into the dark. It had taken the fear of the whisperers longer to set in than to release it.

Daryl is standing on his balcony. He watches how a crowd gathers around the big fire in front of Barrington House to listen to one of Aaron’s stories. The man’s voice is lost over the distance but he sees how Aaron curls his arm, hand coming up to his shoulder like he’s holding something heavy. How he braces himself and then shields his eyes with his hand. The children cheer.

It’s one of their favorite stories. The battle of Alexandria. Merle blowing up a lake.

It sounds as fantastical as one of his bedtime stories had done, before. It pains him to realize that these kids knew Merle, the hero of that story, but Hershel will probably only know him as just that; a story. A drawing on some wall. A last name that he will probably take to his grave.

There’s a sadness in him that makes his hands tremble. It swirls in him, coming up as utter despair at the unfairness of it all, and then as vicious anger at the stupidity of people. He wants to shout at them how blind they all are, how easily fooled, how fucking _stupid_ …

But he doesn’t want to deny them this. The laughter and the dances and the secret victory kisses behind the barn. Peace of mind. A change to feel that maybe, just maybe it will all be okay and things can go back to normal. They will bring in the harvest. The children will go back to school. Babies will be born.

That’s what it was all for, he tries to tell himself.

That’s enough.

That’s enough.

That is enough.

The door behind him opens and he knows what Maggie sees. The room is a spotless. He’s not the messiest of people but even this will make her eyebrows raise, had it happened at any other time. His bed is made, the sheets neatly tucked in and the baseball shorts he likes to sleep in is folded on top of his pillow. He has decluttered the desk, cleaned out his closet, and has put his personal belongings in a box for storage.

‘When did you know?’ Maggie’s voice is hoarse.

‘I drew that border,’ Daryl says as he watches how Kal stands guard on top of the wall. People below talk about what an excellent leader he is, always leading by example, always being strong for his people but Daryl knows what shame looks like. Even in just a silhouette. ‘It was an inside joke. Nobody gave a shit about it and I happened to be at the meeting so they let me draw it. You know how far out that border is?’

‘No, Dare,’ Maggie says.

‘Eighteen miles out,’ Daryl says with a laugh. He leans on the balustrade to alleviate the pain in his back. ‘It made me think of them.’

She closes the door behind her. ‘Dare…’

‘Didn’t make any sense, _none_ of it. There’s no way it would take _that_ long to find a group _that_ big. The attack with the walkers and then _nothing_? But hey!’ He laughs and turns around, ‘suddenly Kal’s _eighteen miles_ out and he _stumbles_ across their camp. Happy accident?’

Maggie sits down on his bed.

‘Beth’s letter didn’t make any sense neither.’

She frowns.

‘Three people went missing, left their gear behind. She was worried they’d gone and done something stupid. Makes no damn sense. How’re you going to kill yourself now? You shoot your brains out or get _real_ creative because even if you wanna die, you _don’t_ wanna _turn_.’ He folds his arms in front of his chest. ‘They don’t carry guns there. So who the hell walks out on gates and people? You offered asylum after that final battle. They changed their minds. Went back home. Those dead ones at the clearing? They didn’t have those dark spots on their skin from wearing rotting masks for too long.’

‘You always said you were observant.’

‘Hmm-hmm.’ He lights a cigarette. ‘Gonna tell me what happened?’

Maggie studies her shakings hands. ‘We were getting ready to fight. We were going to find them, root them all out, but… Kal spoke to Beta – they have a _horde_ , Dare. Walkers, _hundreds_ of them. They were going to take Oceanside first, then the Kingdom, then us – all of us.’

‘He spoke to him?’

‘Kal found him. Just before the attack of the walkers.’

‘He saw that horde of theirs?’

‘No, but-‘

Daryl steps forward, ‘they’re just bullshitting! There ain’t no goddamn-‘

‘ _We don’t know that_!’ Maggie’s voice is raised and unsteady. There are tears in her eyes. ‘We thought Negan was some story to frighten children and he took Glenn, and Abraham, and Carol, and… we lost so many, because we thought we were right. What if it’s true? You saw how many they were willing to sacrifice with that attack! What if it’s true? I couldn’t risk it.’

‘So you let them get away?’

‘Safe passage.’ Maggie folds her hands in front of her face. ‘We killed so many of them at that battle. They were willing to let it go, to let it all be, to just _leave_.’

Daryl blows the smoke up at the ceiling. ‘Who else knows you made a damn deal?’

‘Kal,’ Maggie says. ‘Every leader of the communities.’

‘Michonne agreed to that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Maggie just shakes her head.

‘We’re a team,’ Daryl says as anger starts to boil over. His voice gets louder and louder until he makes her flinch. ‘That’s what you said! That it was always gonna be you ‘nd me, we shouldn’t be keeping no secrets. We were done with all that! And I tried, I fucking – _I’d do anything for you_!’

‘Dare, please-‘

‘ _He was my brother_ ,’ Daryl hisses, ‘ _and you let them walk_! Hell, I thought you’d try to do something stupid in the end. Thought you were gonna lock him up too. Didn’t think you’d actually let them go.’ Daryl laughs humorlessly. ‘You really don’t give a fuck about me, do you? Words. Bull. Let’s keep him out of the loop. Let’s act like he’s some unstable asshole. Let’s try to fucking trick him into thinking the whisperers tucked tail and ran.’

‘You wouldn’t have let them go.’

He throws the cigarette aside and walks over, getting into her face, ‘no, of course I wouldn’t have! You think they’re really gone? That they’re not just gonna turn up tomorrow, next week, a year from now? They know where we are. They know what we have. They get hungry? They get cold? Hell, they get bored and they’ll turn up on your doorstep and catch you all off guard!’

‘It was for the best. I couldn’t risk it.’

‘Right. Right. The greater good, huh? Why ain’t I ever part of that?’

Maggie shakes her head. ‘You are,’ she whispers.

‘Sure as _fuck_ don’t feel like it.’

‘You know I didn’t have a choice.’

‘No you did,’ Daryl says. ‘And you made the wrong one. You think this will save everyone? One day, just when you think everything’s good, when everything is peaceful… when Dante’s teaching Hershel how to ride on a horse, or when Aaron takes him out fishing or you’re teaching him how to be safe around walkers… that’s when they’ll take him. And they’ll put you in a cage, and they’ll pull his tiny little head out of a sack, grab a nice sharp knife and skin his face right off while you watch, _and it will be all on you_!’

Maggie stares at him with horrified eyes.

He looks back with a heaving chest, suddenly scared, too.

She gets up, the motion strangely robotic. ‘I’ll…’ she has to start again. ‘We’ll talk in the morning.’

The door closes behind her.

In the morning, she finds a note on his pillow.

_Tell Hershel I said bye._


	7. Family reunion

* * *

Daryl thinks about that day on the bridge often now. They’re not nightmares about the crying baby, or the men who’d been torn to pieces while they could have saved them, but instead thoughts about how Will and him could have made it, after all. Maybe if he’d just gone with Will, they would have been all right. The two of them, camping by the river, hunting and fishing, just living off the land like they’d always done.

It had frightened him, back then. The thought of losing Shane and Glenn, the rest of their family, those high walls of the prison and all that barbed wire. It had felt like that had been the only way to survive; rebuilding a community, keeping each other safe, working hard to provide for every member regardless of their use or contributions. He’s not going to deny that it worked, or that it’s working right now with their New World. But maybe Will had been right after all; it’s not meant for people like them.

The first week on his own is easy. He hikes until he reaches the last town within their border, seventeen miles out. It used to be a pretty good town, he supposes. There’s a couple of decent-sized supermarkets, a flower shop, diner and bar, gas station, hairdressers and even a barbershop with swiveling chairs. Everything has been picked clean of course, but he rests while staring at himself in the cracked mirrors, before moving on.

Eventually he settles on one of the houses on the outer edge of the town. There used to live a young family there. A station wagon with rotting tires sits on the driveway, he keeps the children’s bedrooms firmly closed after clearing them. There’s no blood anywhere in the house. The house has only been looted by people searching for food and basic supplies, but after closing a couple of drawers and cupboards, it almost looks like nothing happened. He takes the master bedroom as his own because it has a window from which you can hop onto the garage and then get down safely.

It’s easy enough to rig up a walker-alarm system of wire and string. During the day, he hunts in the woods nearby and gets water from the creek. At night, he sits on the swing set in the backyard to keep watch until it’s too dark, and then he heads inside to sleep.

After a week, he begins to understand that Will might have been fine out here, on his own, but he starts to miss his people. Not just because it’s exhausting to have to worry about food and water every single day, being solely responsible for it, but also because he starts to miss their voices. The world is quiet when it’s just you, he finds.

At first he thought he’d stay closer to the communities. That he’d camp out by the river, set up a small camp and just live there while he got his head on straight. When he’d stood at the riverbank, he’d figured out that it wasn’t a very good plan. It had been way too close to the communities. He’d probably be back by midnight.

Of course he’d thought about going to Washington, too. While he wants to see Taiwo, he doesn’t think he could stop himself from snapping at Mason which would only raise questions he doesn’t want to answer.

So instead he’d gone to the only place that wouldn’t make sense for him to go to; a town that has been picked clean and ignored since Maggie took over Hilltop Colony. Nobody would think to look there, not at first at least, so he figures he still has about four weeks left until he can start expecting visitors.

It’s startling therefor, to find a car parked in front of his house when he comes back from a hunt after just two weeks. The car is dark gray and pretty rusty. He doesn’t recognize it, but that doesn’t mean anything. He prefers taking his bike because it means he’ll get to drive. Strangely enough, nobody is scared to get on the bike with him, but they’ll still demand the keys of a car whenever they go out.

He spots the car from across the field and thinks about taking off. There’s no movement in or around the house. About five people could squeeze into a car like that. He can take five people, just not at once, and he can’t tell whether they’ve split up. Probably. There’s not a lot to loot in his house, but they’ll be able to tell he’s been there recently and will go looking for him.

He needs his gear. Keeping himself fed and hydrated is difficult enough as it is, and he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to manage without his gear. The anger boiling in his veins at the thought of having it stolen is enough to make him cross the field. While the crossbow is his preferred weapon, he swings it onto his back in favor of his handgun. If there are more people, he won’t be able to reload quickly enough with the bow.

With careful steps he heads towards the back door. It creaks slightly when he opens it but he slips inside the house and walks through the small hallway, up some steps to get to the main hall. That door is already open. A strange sound comes from the living room.

Daryl stops with a frown. He knows that sound but can’t quite place it. It’s rhythmic, dull thuds that get more annoying over time, something that he would hate to hear for –

He puts his gun away and walks into the living room.

‘You know?’ Carl says as he throws a tennis ball up at the ceiling before catching it again, ‘I really thought it was my time to be a sulking mess but here you are… stealing my thunder.’

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Daryl asks with a growl.

‘Just checking in,’ his brother says with a shrug. ‘You didn’t turn up on anyone’s doorstep so everyone kind of lost their minds. It was pretty funny; everyone thought Taiwo was hiding you under his bed or something, he got grilled pretty hard.’

The words don’t even register properly. The adrenaline from before spirals into anger at seeing his brother lying on the couch. He hasn’t changed at all. His dark hair is long enough to cover the scar where his eye used to be, but he wears a leather band to cover it as well. Mostly to keep bacteria out. Sneakers on the couch cushions, jeans that are slightly too long, his holsters wrapped around his thigh and waist to keep his guns in place. Blue shirt.

Daryl isn’t sure whether he wants to hug or punch him.

Carl looks at him with an arched eyebrow. ‘Are you okay?’

‘How did you know I was here?’

‘You weren’t at your usual spots and the other town is too close to Alexandria. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. Last place anyone would look. It took me a while to find the right house though,’ he admits. ‘Beth would be pretty proud that you’re using her tin-can walker warning system.’

Daryl puts his backpack on the floor and his crossbow on the table.

‘Wow, you got a new one?’ Carl asks as he sits up to see it. ‘Sweet.’

Anger flares again at the banality of it all. ‘I’ve been trying to talk to you for _weeks_!’ he says as he walks over to the couch and aims a mean kick at it, right beside Carl’s shins. ‘The fuck were you ignoring me for? Radioed you every day, man. Slept with that thing right next to me in case you changed your damn mind one day. Kept sending you messages, I’ve written you a _dozen_ letters and you couldn’t be fucking assed to let me know you were okay. And now what? We’re gonna do _this_?’ he gestures between them. ‘Go to hell, man.’

Carl scoffs. ‘You’re one to talk. Maggie’s losing her mind, everyone’s out there looking for you and you’re having a picnic over here. The least you can do is radio her to say you haven’t actually been eaten along the way and that you’re not on some savage rampage like the good old days!’

‘The good old- _go fuck yourself_.’ He grabs his crossbow off the table and stomps out of the room, up the stairs and into the master bedroom. He throws it onto the bed to have it within reach and sags down on the thick matrass. The palms of his hands press into his eyes until he sees stars. He tries to breathe in through his nose, out via his mouth like Harlan had taught him but it just makes him feel light-headed.

This isn’t how he’d imagined he’d see his brother again. He now feels stupid for expecting something far more sentimental, embarrassed that he’d hoped Carl might have missed him as much as he’d missed his brother and the feeling spirals quickly into him doubting they’d ever been brothers at all. Panic starts to kick in. His hands shake.

Carl comes up the stairs. Footsteps slow and careful, like he’s not sure what to expect, but he makes his way into the master bedroom. He closes the door behind him and sits down against it. Lanky legs pulled up to his chest, arms looped around his bent knees.

They’re quiet while Daryl tries to regulate his breathing.

‘I wouldn’t have come with you.’

Daryl looks up.

Carl plucks at his jeans. ‘Dad made sure I wasn’t on the frontlines of the Savior war. It used to make me so mad. I thought he didn’t trust me, I thought he’d rather have you as his right-hand man. We fought a lot. We were both tired, scared… We fought and I remember screaming; _you wish Daryl was yours_ _instead of me.’_ He shakes his head. ‘So stupid.’

Daryl doesn’t say anything.

‘When he let me go out there, with you, to get Beta?’ Carl nods, ‘I was so… I thought I was gonna show him, right? How tough I was. That I was just as tough as you. And then everything went to shit and I was on the other side of the building and I could… I could hear you _scream_ …’ He shields his eye with his hand, ‘fuck.’

There’s not much he remembers from that attack. He remembers bracing himself on the table, seeing that saw get closer to his face. Crawling away, the blood, the utter terror he’d felt. He remembers Enid. Her telling him that it would be okay. And Carl, holding his hand.

‘You would have been dead if Enid hadn’t been there. I didn’t know what to do. So _tough_ ,’ he says bitterly, ‘and I would have let my own brother die.’

‘Wouldn’t have been on you,’ Daryl says.

‘That’s what it felt like. I thought; it’s going to be you and me, what’s the worst that could happen? Who could take _us_ on, right? Everything that’s happened to us, happened when we weren’t together. The prison. Shane. The saviors. And you still almost _died_.’ Carl sighs and leans his head back against the door. ‘You didn’t though, so… That was good.’

Daryl snorts and gets up to sit across from his brother on the floor. ‘Thanks, ya asshole.’

Carl looks at him. ‘I knew you’d want to go after them, when dad… That’s why I didn’t ask you to stay. Why I didn’t answer when you called. I didn’t want you to ask because I wouldn’t have come with you. I can’t.’

Daryl sets his jaw. ‘What, because you’re scared?’

‘We had a plan last time, everyone was in on it, and you still almost died, Dare! What if they kill us? Put our heads on a spike like they did with that patrol. Think of Michonne and Maggie, man,’ Carl pleads. He reaches out to hook his hand behind Daryl’s neck, squeezing tight. ‘They’ve lost _enough_.’

‘They killed Merle. They killed your dad, man’

‘It won’t bring them back, Dare. It won’t help. You know that.’

Daryl closes his eyes. ‘They’re not gone. They’ll come back.’

‘Then we’ll be ready, if they come back,’ Carl promises. ‘But every second they’re not? That’s one more second Maggie gets to see you horse around with Hershel. One more second I can see Judith grow up. We’ll get to meet our baby brother or sister. It’s worth it, Dare. That’s worth more than the chance of missing all that.’

‘I know. I know….’

Carl pulls him into a tight hug.

‘It was your _dad_ , man. I’m so sorry.’

‘Me too,’ Carl says with a deep sigh. He lets his forehead rest on his brother’s shoulder until Daryl moves away to sit next to him. Pressed together from ankle to shoulder, which reminds them both of the times they’d slept in the bunkbeds of the prison. Heads close together to read the comics, flashlight wobbling every time they had to flip a page.

Daryl chews on his thumb. He looks at Carl. ‘Hey. Wanna go do something real dumb?’

The bar is a lot nicer than the one Merle used to go to, before. The little town must have been evacuated early on and the looters from Hilltop were probably with Paul or Kal, because most of the alcohol is still on the shelves behind the bar. There’s a thick layer of dust on them and the ones that are cracked open have mold in them. There are still sealed bottles beneath the counter though.

He grabs one with brown liquor in it, and a clear one. The labels have faded so he doesn’t know what they’re called, or what they taste like, but he figures they can just try some. It can’t really be as bad as the peach schnapps with Beth had been. Someone at the Kingdom is in the business of making cider, which had been a big hit during the fair, though Daryl hadn’t tried some. Merle thought cider wasn’t something men drink and he didn’t need the additional jokes after Merle had seen him dancing with Taiwo at the party.

‘Maggie says you’re an asshole.’

Daryl’s head shoots up from behind the counter with a dark scowl on his face.

‘Kidding,’ Carl laughs as he walks into the bar and sits down on one of the barstools. ‘She was very glad to hear you weren’t bitten in a ditch somewhere, or playing Rambo in Florida or something.’ He puts the radio on the counter. ‘She really wants you to come home.’

‘Yeah well, tough,’ Daryl plonks the bottle down and searches for some glasses.

‘She didn’t make a deal with them. Not really.’

‘She let them cross our lands and let them get away!’

‘They had to cross somehow – look, I get it, right? Of course I do, but what else was she supposed to do? They have a herd that they can send down on-‘

‘We don’t know that! Kal hasn’t seen it, it’s just Beta bullshitting to get away. They know Alexandria has guns. If you hadn’t closed the damn gates and blew up those bridges, we could have…’ Daryl takes a deep breath and turns back to the bottles. ‘Whatever. Doesn’t matter anymore. Put those in your bag.’

‘Michonne wanted us to be safe.’

‘Yeah? What about the rest of us? Huh?’ Daryl folds a hand over his eyes before turning to the fridges beneath the counter. To his great delight, they are still stocked with small bottles of soda. He loads them all into his own backpack. ‘We sure this ever got looted at all? They left the coke.’

‘Pretty sure they were just looking for meds and stuff,’ Carl murmurs as he plays with a coaster that pulverizes as soon as he bends it in two. ‘Michonne’s coming around. She misses you.’

Daryl scoffs.

‘You can radio her. Eugene’s set up our own station, I know she’d love to hear you voice and-‘

‘Cut the fucking crap, Carl,’ Daryl hisses as he carefully puts his backpack on. The glass chimes as the weight shifts. ‘I’ve been calling all y’all for fucking ages. She weren’t sad to see me go and she sure as fuck ain’t _missing me_!’ He takes a steadying breath. ‘Don’t matter. She always were _your_ best friend, huh?’

‘If you’ll just come back and talk to her,’ Carl says and his voice is pleading. ‘She didn’t mean… we brought back dad’s head in a bag, Dare. What do you expect-‘

‘ _We_ did,’ Daryl says. ‘What? You think I just thought; time to go? Maggie called so I better pack up and leave my damn brother – leave little asskicker in fucking tears? I would have stayed. Hadn’t packed a damn thing. It was late, I was gonna call Maggie in the morning, work things out.’

Carl frowns.

‘Michonne stopped by,’ he wipes his nose on the back of his hand, ‘said she wanted me gone by morning.’

‘She didn’t mean it. She was sad and-‘

‘Yeah, I get it,’ Daryl mutters. ‘But it weren’t on me. What happened to Rick? I’m so _fucking_ _sorry_ , but that weren’t on _me_. I would have died for him. I would for you, and Michonne. Maggie.’

‘I know, Dare,’ Carl says. ‘Michonne does too.’

Daryl sighs. ‘Is she okay?’

‘Some days. It’s getting better, but… you know.’

‘Yeah. I do.’

Carl nods and looks over his shoulder at the rest of the bar. There’s a pool table in the corner. The green wool is rotting because the ceiling above it is leaking. Strange stains have spread across the white paint, a strange collage of brown and greens. Right next to it is a dartboard. Most of the darts have been pushed into the bullseye.

‘Wanna play?’ Daryl asks.

‘Kinda. We shouldn’t stay here though. There’s one in my room, remember? We could go back home.’

‘ _You_ can go home.’

‘Come with me.’

‘Nope.’

Carl sighs and gets up. For a second, Daryl thinks he’ll actually leave and head home, but his brother walks over to the dartboard and rips it off the wall. ‘Let’s go then.’

Three hours later, Daryl is leaning against the wall, slumped over with one arm curled around his stomach as his eyes tear up. He’s laughing so hard, it’s hard to talk.

‘I – I only have one eye!’ Carl protests as he walks over to the dartboard that’s propped up on the dinner table. He misjudges the distance and bumps into the table, which causes Daryl to almost piss himself. ‘That’s why I’m so bad – I’m not even bad, you know? I’m… I’m pretty fucking good at it.’ Instead of going around the table, he decides to climb onto it and crawl to the board on hands and feet.

‘The fuck are you doing?’ Daryl laughs.

‘Look!’ Carl demands as he waves at what he thinks is the board. ‘I got it. I got it, brother. Hey! Dare. Dixy,’ he laughs at the old nickname. ‘Look. Come here. Come _here_!’

‘I’m commin’,’ Daryl says as he walks over, feet unsteady and he needs to put his hand on the table to remain upright. He peers at the board with hazy eyes. ‘What I’m looking at? _Am_ I lookin’. What’m I lookin’ at?’

Carl’s fingers lovingly stroke over the darts. ‘I got ‘em in.’ He grins and puffs his chest up, ‘look! A nice – a nice little –a _group_! They’re in a group together. That’s good. That’s really good. I’m really good!’

‘They ain’t in the board though.’

‘ _No_?’ Carl asks breathlessly. He tries to look at the actual board that’s to his left but wobbles dangerously. ‘But I _won_!’

‘You didn’t win shit,’ Daryl laughs as he grabs his brother by his shoulder and hip, and hauls him off the table. ‘Get down here. You’re gonna draw every walker over with your bullshit.’

‘That’s not good,’ Carl states as he holds onto Daryl’s shoulder to stay upright. ‘ _My_ bullshit?’ he suddenly seems to realize that the blame has been shifted onto him. ‘You tried to juggle those – those glasses and _I_ – _you_ – hey, remember you got me those sunglasses, with the one…?’ he starts to laugh again.

‘You’re so fucking drunk,’ Daryl laughs.

‘No!’ Carl stumbles away from him, ‘no I’m fine! Fine, brother. Bro. I’m – See? _Shit_!’ He almost falls over one of the chairs but manages to stay on his feet. ‘Oh shit,’ he giggles, ‘don’t tell dad.’

Daryl watches how his brother freezes. His own blood runs cold, too. It takes him a second to shake it off. ‘Nah, I won’t,’ he walks over and claps him on the shoulder. ‘What kinda brother would I be if – _Shane, man you watching this shit_?’

‘Ssh! Ssh!’ Carl jumps up to messily cover Daryl’s mouth with both of his hands. ‘Don’t tell him! You can’t – can’t tell your dad either. Don’t tell. We – he can’t know.’

Just like the old days, Daryl sticks out his tongue to lick the palm of Carl’s hands to make him let go.

‘Ew!’ his brother draws his hands back and looks at the wet stripe with both wonder and disgust. He looks up, swaying on the spot. ‘You should only be licking Taiwo,’ he wipes his hand on his jeans, ‘I think. Have you?’

Daryl lifts an amused eyebrow, ‘have I _licked_ my boyfriend? That what you’re fucking asking me?’

‘ _No_ ,’ Carl moans and covers both eyes out of habit. ‘ _Called_ him. With the _radio_ , I mean.’

‘You’re so fucking stupid when you’re drunk,’ Daryl laughs as he moves to grab Carl’s pack off the floor. There are a couple of water bottles in there, as well as some food, ammo and a first-aid kit. He hopes there are some painkillers in there for tomorrow morning. It had been pretty funny to him when Carl hadn’t noticed he’d stopped drinking from his bottle and had switched to soda instead. He hasn’t laughed this much in ages and he suspects Carl hasn’t either.

‘Did you?’ Carl leers.

‘Licked him, didn’t call him, you asshole,’ Daryl grins as he grabs Carl’s elbow and herds him up the stairs. Though he has set a couple traps around the house, he knows that at least one of them should be sober in case a walker or anyone still alive wanders into town and spots the only car in town that still works is parked right on their driveway.

Carl giggles as he falls onto the bed. ‘You’re the worstest boyfriend in – in ever.’

‘Worstest boyfriend in ever? Hmm hmm,’ he throws the pack down and grabs Carl’s left foot, then his right to unlace his boots and pull them off. ‘Drink some water,’ he throws a bottle onto the bed before checking the windows. The town is quiet. A walker stumbles by out in the field but it’s just one and he’s missing an arm, so the fear that it’s a whisperer subsides.

He closes the curtains and looks back at Carl, who’s now propped up against the headboard with a water bottle in his hand. A small trickle drips down his chin but he laughs when he sees that his brother is watching him.

‘Hey.’

Daryl scoffs and climbs onto the bed as well. He takes Carl’s gun out of his holster and puts it onto the nightstand.

‘They gave me dad’s gun,’ Carl says, eye now closed. ‘Send some people out to search for his… got me his gun. ‘Chonne said I should…’ he waves a vague hand, ‘have it and stuff. I don’t want to. ‘s it weird I don’t wanna?’

‘You’ll wanna later,’ Daryl assures him.

‘Hmm,’ he leans to the side so their shoulders are touching. ‘Judy – man, she cried so much after you left. Hid in your room, she –we thought she’d left or – Enid found her. Think I’m gonna marry her.’

‘Drink your water, man.’

‘’s good, good water,’ Carl nods and he takes a messy sip. ‘Dad met my mom when they were my age, y’knew that? Yeah. At school. Met at school. They didn’t have no class – classes together, but he said – he saw her during lunch, always. Probably – that’s… that’s a lame story though. Now. _At school_. Pfft.’

Daryl laughs and lights up a cigarette. ‘Yeah, pretty lame.’

‘D’you think they’re together – now? Like… some place?’

‘I dunno, man,’ Daryl says softly.

‘With Shane, maybe?’ Carl sounds so hopeful that it breaks his brother’s heart.

‘I’ll tell you what I know,’ the Dixon says. ‘That would be one fucked up family reunion.’

Carl stares at him for a second. Then he starts to laugh, so hard and so loud, until the sound quiets into sobs.

Daryl reaches out and curls an arm around his brother’s shoulders to draw him in, kisses his hair. ‘It’s okay,’ he shushes, ‘it’s going to be okay.’

The next morning, Carl is an absolute wreck. He’s sitting on the bed, face drawn and paler than ever. There’s a small trashcan between his feet in case he throws up again. Sweat makes his hair clammy and shoulders shiny. He’s staring at the floor, desperately trying not to move his head too much.

Daryl’s got a headache as well, but at least he’s not immobilized by a hangover. Earlier, he’d tried to make Carl drink some more water which had only caused his brother to throw up. To escape the death glare, he’d gone out to check on his snares and traps. They’d all been empty, which made him all the more thankful that Carl has some emergency food in the trunk of his car as well, in case he’d needed it.

He eats breakfast downstairs so Carl won’t get sick off the smell and then rummages through his own pack to find what he needs. The radio is heavy in his hands. He flicks it on and listens to the white noise but no patrol rapports come in, nobody needs a gate opened anywhere.

‘Little prince for the Sanctuary, over.’

The answer is immediate and he doesn’t doubt that there’s someone running through the halls of the old factory right now to go get Beth. She arrives only minutes later, slightly out of breath but smiling, by the sound of it. ‘Dare! Hey. How are you?’

There have been several clicks on the line already, people opening up their channels as well to hear what they’re saying.

‘I’m fine. Carl’s here.’

‘Where’s here, Dare?’ Beth asks as she sits down behind the desk. Her chair scrapes over the floor.

‘We’re fine.’ He doesn’t really know what else to say. There’s no real news, no message he wants to pass along, nothing they don’t already know by now. ‘Carl will probably come home soon.’

‘What about you?’ Beth asks. ‘Where are you? You can always come here, Dare. Or go to Washington. The Kingdom. Just – come home, somewhere.’

‘Bye, Beth,’ he says before she can talk some sense into him. The radio is turned off. He doesn’t need to flurry of other voice on the line, each of them trying to get his attention. They know he’s fine, which should be enough.

When he goes back upstairs, Carl has some color on his cheeks again as he takes a careful sip of his water. His eyes are bloodshot. ‘Who were you talking to?’

‘Beth, but going by the clicks, the whole fucking world.’ Daryl sits down next to him with a sigh.

‘What the fuck are you doing here, brother?’ Carl murmurs. ‘I get it’s messed up what she did, but you know that Maggie loves you. She didn’t do this to… to fuck you over. It had to be done, it was the only way to resolve this without putting any of her people in danger. Any of her family. Yeah, she should have told you, but… man, she doesn’t deserve this.’

‘And I do?’

Carl sighs and spits into the trash can. ‘No, but she’s trying to do what’s best for her community, and you’re running away from home.’

‘This ain’t a one-time thing, it’s every time,’ Daryl says. ‘I thought we were doing better this time, like.. Hell, I fucking understood them not trusting me to keep my wrists whole after all that, but I tried real hard. Did everything they wanted, I went to fucking therapy, man!’

Carl nods to show that he’s listening while he takes another careful sip.

‘I thought I had to win her trust back, or something, so I kept my nose clean. She’s the one who let me rejoin the meetings, read the mail, she even gave me a new fucking crossbow!’

‘Of course she did,’ Carl mutters. ‘Everyone with half a brain cell feels better when you have one of those. Give Michonne a sword, Jerry an axe and you a crossbow. That’s just the way things are. And she does trust you, what are you talking about.’

‘She didn’t tell me about that fucking deal!’

Carl glances at him, ‘she didn’t tell Jesus. Michonne didn’t tell me until after the fact. Only the leaders knew, and Kal, since he talked to that asshole. Look, okay, _maybe_ it was messed up but you’re really punishing her, brother. If you’d just gone to me or Tai, fine, but to go _nowhere_? She was hysterical.’

Daryl chews on his thumb.

‘You can be mad, but be mad inside a community, behind some sturdy walls. She’s still your mom, she’s been through enough. And yes,’ he stresses when Daryl opens his mouth, ‘so have you, but come on. Don’t be dick, Dixon.’

Daryl rolls his eyes. ‘Well she knows I’m fine now, so it don’t matter anymore.’

‘None of it matters anymore,’ Carl says. ’The whisperers have left our lands, they crossed the border and they’re _gone_. Yeah, it’s fucked up that she used you as some kind of sniffer dog to fake confirm it and all that, but they’re gone.’ He reaches out to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, ‘and we’ll be ready if they return. Think about it. We’ve got time to recover, build up our forces. The Kingdom’s the only one with a real army; we need to get Alexandria back on track, Oceanside needs to be trained. Just in case something happens, right? So if they return, we’ll be ready.’

He works his jaw and then nods.

Carl lets his hand slide to Daryl’s neck and draws him close. Their foreheads rest together. ‘Come home with me. Please. Come stay at Alexandria for a while. We miss you. _I_ miss you.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl says softly. ‘Yeah. Okay.’

It still amazes him that they found each other, at the beginning of all of this. And that he has never managed to scare the other boy off during all these years. They’ve grown to be brothers, first reluctantly sharing a backseat in either Shane or Rick’s car to sneaking into each other bedrooms to not be alone at Alexandria. When they’d arrived at the town, he thought that Carl would come to his senses upon meeting normal teenagers but that never happened.

Now, they’re taking the long way home.

Carl’s singing along to a song. Just like his father, he has a terrible taste in music though unlike Rick, it does not stop Carl from loudly singing along. Fingers drum on his steering wheel. He doesn’t know the entire lyrics and guesses something ridiculous in places, which causes Daryl to laugh every time.

Daryl’s in the passenger’s seat with his feet up on the dashboard. He watches the world go by as he thinks about what his brother had said earlier. He hadn’t meant his running away as a punishment to Maggie. Hadn’t really meant anything by it other than being so angry and hurt and not quite knowing how else to deal with that all.

He knows and never doubts that Maggie loves him, but he finds it hard to mark his boundaries before they cross them. It hurts that she would lie to him, after everything they’ve gone through, and he feels embarrassed at how badly he’d wanted to impress her with how he was coping with everything. That she still felt the need to lie to him makes him feel inadequate and _stupid_.

He’s not sure how he would have reacted though, if she’d just told him about Kal running into Beta, the threat about the herd, the safe passage that was bargained for. With a lot of anger, he suspects, and probably some rash decisions as well.

‘Stop thinking so loud, you’re ruining the song,’ Carl shouts over the music. When he glances at his brother, he reaches out to turn the volume down. ‘What’s wrong?’

Daryl shrugs. Instead of answering, he digs around in his pack again to find the radio. His call-sign causes a flurry on the lines and he waits patiently until the one he’s trying to reach is summoned. It takes a while, but eventually his call-sign is echoed back by the right person.

‘Hey,’ Daryl mutters, shifting in his seat so he won’t have to look at Carl. ‘Sorry I didn’t radio earlier.’

‘Where are you?’ Taiwo asks, sounding a bit frantic. ‘Is Carl still with you?’

‘Yeah, yeah, we’re fine.’

‘Where have you been? God, you couldn’t radio sooner? You couldn’t have let me know you were leaving Hilltop? Where did you go?’

Daryl sighs and fidgets with the antenna of his radio. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Are you?’ Taiwo demands to know. ‘We were worried sick! You can’t do that shit, Dare. And you left on foot? You couldn’t have at least taken your bike? What the hell is that about. Do you know how dangerous that is? That’s so stupid! I can’t believe you did that.’

‘Said I were sorry, ain’t saying it again.’

‘What are you going to say then, because you’re not answering any of my questions. Where the hell are you?’

‘I’ll come see you soon, promise.’

‘Dare, what the hell, _where are you_? Are you going to Alexandria?’

He turns the radio off.

Carl glances to the side again. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Keep your one eyeball on the road and just drive.’

‘You really are a shitty boyfriend,’ Carl comments as he changes the cd’s out. ‘You could have just told him we’re going to Alexandria. They already know I found you, it’s not that hard to figure out. I know you don’t like to talk much, but trying to make everyone else hurt and stress out too isn’t going to help.’

‘Go fuck yourself.’

‘I miss Shane, man. At least he knew what the fuck was going on in that tiny brain of yours.’

‘Stop talkin’ about him.’

Carl shrugs and turns the volume back up.

Country music floods the car.

The gates of Alexandria open while Carl drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

Daryl hates how nervous he feels. He pushes himself back in his seat, gnaws on his knuckles and tries to reassure himself that this is his home, that he belongs here, that he’s always welcome here. He has a room here, a bed waiting for him. There are filled sketchbooks in his drawers, pencils littered on his desk. A closet filled with his old clothes. He’s not sure whether they’ll still fit him, but they’re _his_.

All of that fades when the gates have completely opened.

He feels sick.

Michonne is waiting for them.


	8. Homes and places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer break is over and I'm going back to school to teach, so chapters might be coming out later though I'll try to stick to the schedule.

* * *

It’s been a long time since he’s been scared to face Michonne.

It’s not any kind of fear he’s used to, either. He knows she won’t hurt him, will barely raise her voice and won’t deny him food or water no matter how angry she gets. There’s still fear curling in the base of his spine and stomach when he gets out of the car though. One hand curled around the band of his crossbow, his other resting on one of his new knives. He doesn’t want to meet her eye, just stares down at the dusty driveway. Long bangs prick into his small eyes as he listens to how Carl drives off to park the car nearby.

‘We found some soda ‘nd stuff,’ he says when it’s clear that Michonne isn’t going to break the silence between them. ‘Thought Asskicker might like to try it, and Tara-‘

‘Don’t,’ Michonne orders, voice cold and commanding.

He can’t help but flinch. ‘I won’t stay long,’ he promises.

‘Dare...’ Her voice is softer now. She doesn’t look any different than normal, except for the fact that she doesn’t smile when she looks at him. Dark eyes glance at the people that are starting to come over to greet the youngest Dixon. It’s been a while since they’ve had a visitor. ‘Get into the house.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he says softly. It’s clear that she doesn’t want him to wait for Carl, so he heads down the street with his head bowed. Some people call out his name, but he ignores them to not anger Michonne any further.

They’ve never been particularly close. He’s always been drawn to Shane, Glenn and Maggie, while she’d formed a unit with Rick, even before they got together. While Rosita and Tara are aunts he’s never had, he’d never been sure how to classify Michonne. Always part of his family, and always on his side in times of trouble, but distant at the same time.

It hadn’t bothered him before. It makes him uncomfortable now that he has to stay in her house. Maybe she’d only tolerated him being there because of Carl and Rick, before. So it feels strange to open the front door and just walk in like it’s still his home.

Nothing much has changed here, either. Rick’s winter jacket is still on the coatrack, right next to Carl’s. There’s a pair of pink shoes in the corner of the hallway, now far too small for Judith. The coffee table is empty, though most of the maps and plans he’s so used to seeing there have been moved to the kitchen bar. Probably because Judith can’t reach them that way.

There are glasses in the sink, wild flowers in a vase, their spare knives hanging from a high hook right next to the back door. Carl’s boots are on the mat. For a second he thinks about putting his there as well but decides against it. He still knows which steps on the staircase creak and he skips them while going upstairs.

Somebody has been in his room. The ashtray by the window has been emptied out and he can’t imagine that he’d made his bed so perfectly before leaving. There’s no dust anywhere. His room is spotless, which is new. It surprises him that the door to his closet is cracked open, while everything else is so perfect.

He slowly walks with one hand on his knife and nudges the door further open. The closet has never been very full, a couple of old jackets and shirts, some holsters he’d liked, a basket with mismatched socks and some underwear on the shelves. His eye is drawn to the floor however. Some of his old hoodies have been stuffed into a corner to create a little sitting nook. A small indentation in the fabric.

With a frown, he lifts one of his hoodies up. Beneath it is a stack of old notebooks. He sighs deeply when he sees that the top one is open on an old sketch of Rick and Judith, back in the prison, just hours after she’d been born. Rick, just black and white, with messy hair and blood on his arms and chest, hands so careful and eyes so full with wonder as he’d looked down at his daughter.

‘Ahw kicker,’ Daryl says softly as he drapes the hoodie back over it, not wanting to disturb her little hide-away. With a sigh, he throws his pack onto the bed and sits down, looking around. It’s been a long time since he’s stayed here, but it still feels like his room. There’s a quiver with old bolts in the corner, a stack of comics under his bed. Colored pencils have been put in a case while they’d just littered his desk before.

The window still opens up easily. He sits down in the sill and lets his legs dangle out, his boots hit the side of the house which had always annoyed Carol. The sun has gone down but he can still see the big hall where the church used to be, as well as the watchtower right in the middle of the town. Aaron’s old house. He wonders who lives there now and hopes that they haven’t cleaned out the garage in case he needs some tools.

Voices downstairs alert him to the fact that people have returned home. Rapid footsteps come up the staircase and Daryl swings his legs back over and stands up when Judith appears in his doorway. The girl is out of breath, cheeks flushed and eyes wide as she looks at her older brother.

‘Hey Asskicker,’ Daryl grins. He takes a step towards her, but there really is no need. Judith comes running over and he sinks to one knee, preparing for a big hug but instead she starts to pummel his chest with small, vicious fists. ‘Whoa, what the hell is-‘

‘You can’t leave!’ Judith hits and hits and hits before she looks up at him with tears in her eyes. ‘You can’t _leave_! Where were you? Where did you _go_?’

Another set of rapid footsteps on the stairs and Michonne appears. ‘ _Judith_!’

The girl ignores her and pushes against her brother’s armor-clad chest. ‘ _You left_!’

‘I’m sorry, Judy,’ Daryl murmurs as he pulls her into him. She still feels so small in his arms, though she’s getting bigger by the second now, it seems. The baby-fat is gone and now she has pointy elbows and knees, mouth that firm Grimes line he’s gotten so familiar to over the years. She leans against him and starts to cry. He lifts her up, hugs her tightly as she folds her legs around his waist and arms around his neck. It knocks the baseball cap off but neither of them cares.

‘I’m sorry, baby girl,’ he says against the long hair that’s getting darker and starts to look like Lori’s. Someone has braided one part to keep it out of her face but he still can’t see it because she buries it in his neck.

‘I hate you,’ she sobs as she holds on tightly. ‘You can’t leave!’

‘Judith,’ Michonne tries from the doorway, ‘don’t say that. That’s not nice.’

‘He left! It’s not fair! It’s not fair!’

‘I know,’ Daryl shushes as he bobs her like he used to do when she could fit in the cradle of his arm. ‘I’m back now.’ He doesn’t have the heart to say that he won’t be staying for long. ‘Me and Carl are both back. Everything’s fine. We’re fine.’

Her hold on him tightens which tells him that he’s a liar; nothing is fine, of course it isn’t. She doesn’t call him out on it however, can’t, because she’s crying too hard to get any words out anymore.

He sits down on the bed and just holds her while making shushing noises, one hand covering the back of her head protectively, the other splayed onto her back to prevent her from sliding off his lap. After a minute, he looks up at Michonne, who’s still watching them from the doorway.

She looks heartbroken. There are tears in her eyes which reminds him too much of the time he’d brought the news home. He wants to tell her that he’s sorry, that he hadn’t even meant to come here and ruin everything but he’d missed Carl and Judith too much to resist his brother’s attempts to lure him home for very long.

‘Have you eaten?’

The question startles him. He hasn’t eaten yet, but he also doesn’t want to inconvenience her. ‘Yeah.’

‘ _What_ have you eaten?’

His mind races but suddenly can’t come up with any food. The pause takes too long.

‘I’ll make you some dinner,’ Michonne says as she turns away.

‘I’m fine!’ he protests, trying to keep his voice down because Judith is still clinging to him. ‘You don’t need to. I’m not hungry.’

She looks back at him for a moment, hand resting on the doorpost. ‘Don’t do this,’ she says softly before disappearing.

He doesn’t know what she means by that. After a couple of minutes, he gently pries Judith off of his chest, forcing her to sit back on his knees so he can see her tear-stained face. ‘Okay, enough blubbering all over me,’ he says and huffs out a breath of laughter when she slaps at his chest again. ‘Deep breath. Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.’

‘You didn’t say goodbye.’

‘I know. I’m sorry,’ he wipes some of her tears away. ‘Did you look after that useless brother of yours for me while I were gone?’

Judith shakes her head miserably.

‘No?’

She moves her hands helplessly and no words come out.

He knows the feeling. ‘I’m sorry, Kicker,’ he says again as he brushes her hair back, ‘ain’t your job to be lookin’ after anyone, okay? That’s grown-up people stuff.’ He pulls a face, ‘I’m just sayin’ that so I won’t have to do it either. Your brother’s a handful.’

Judith smiles but tries to fight it.

‘Feeling better after beating the shit out of me?’

‘I didn’t,’ she says as the smile breaks through. Curious fingers pluck at his chest. ‘You’re wearing armor.’

‘Yeah, that’s the only reason why I made it out alive,’ he abruptly stands up but catches the girl easily, swinging her up onto his shoulder to carry her like a sack of potatoes. She laughs as he heads out of the room and down the stairs.

‘Mom!’ she screeches as soon as they reach the kitchen. She beats with balled fists against his back. ‘Mom! Help!’

‘Don’t go hollerin’ for your mom now,’ Daryl scolds playfully. He puts the girl down and smiles when he sees her flushes cheeks and shiny eyes, now due to laughter. ‘She got a damn sword.’

‘ _Katana_!’ Judith corrects.

‘Judith,’ Michonne says from where she’s standing at the stove. ‘Go get your brother, please. He’s on the porch. Daryl, wash your hands, please.’

The little girl tears through the house to get to her other brother, and Daryl hesitantly walks over to the sink. He slowly washes his hands, making sure to scrub under his nails too. There’s tension in his shoulders as he dries his hands, and his stomach rumbles at the smell of the eggs she’s cooking up for him. The table is already set, but there are just two plates so he awkwardly hovers behind his usual chair, unsure of what to do.

The door opens and Carl walks in with Judith on his back. Right behind them, is Enid. The brown hair in a high ponytail and wearing a plaid shirt that was probably Carl’s a long time ago. There’s still a gun on her hip and small knife on the other. She smiles wide when she sees him and quickly moves forward to give him a tight hug. ‘Hey stranger.’

‘Hey you,’ he murmurs into her shoulder, fingers digging into her back.

‘How’s Hershel?’

‘Training for a marathon or something. He’s good though. Real good.’

She draws back, eyes worried as she glances at the scar on his face. ‘And Maggie?’

‘Peachy,’ he murmurs as he rubs at his nose and runs a hand through his hair. He’s forgotten to pick his cap back up after Judith knocked it off earlier. It makes him even more tense.

‘Let’s eat,’ Michonne says as she puts a pan on the table with several cooked eggs, as well as big loaf of bread. She cuts some slices and puts them on the two plates, gesturing for Carl to take a seat. His brother plops down at the table and scoops an egg out, stuffing it into his face not two seconds later.

‘Cute,’ Enid comments dryly as she sits down next to him.

‘Daryl,’ Michonne says with a pointed look at the other plate.

He’s starving and sits down. ‘Thank you,’ he says softly and is saved from having to talk to anyone else when Judith drags her chair closer to him and starts to ask a million questions about Hilltop Colony. Her eyes go wide with wonder when he says Ezekiel gifted him a new horse and she laughs when he tells about Aaron dealing with Gracie.

When their plates are empty, Daryl can feel the tension rising inside of him again. He’s holding his knife still, the flat of his thumb pushing into the dull blade without him even realizing it.

‘Stop,’ Judith says as she leans over to tap on his hand, ‘you’ll hurt yourself.’

‘I wasn’t-‘ he starts when everyone looks at him with suspicious eyes but then just puts the knife down. ‘Thanks, kicker.’

‘Mrs Diaz is teaching us how to be safe with knives in school.’

Daryl hums, ‘maybe I should join your class.’

Judith looks at him with narrowed eyes, like she’s not sure whether he’s joking or not.

‘Probably not though, huh? Guess it’s just for the real smart ones.’

She beams at him. ‘No! You can come too!’

Carl snorts and Enid tries her best not to laugh.

Even Michonne’s voice is soft and warm when she speaks. ‘Carl, Enid? Can you take Judith upstairs and get ready for bed? Daryl can help wash up.’

The scraping sounds of the chairs causes the hair on Daryl’s neck and arms to rise. He tries to smile when Judith gives him a big hug and kiss goodnight before doing the same to Michonne. The little girl waves at him while Enid herds her up the staircase. Carl hesitates but then wishes them both a good night.

With heavy limbs, he gets up to gather the dishes and carry them to the sink.

‘You dry,’ Michonne says as she throws a towel his way, ‘I’ll wash.’

‘Yeah.’ He leans against the counter with both hands. After a couple of minutes, he works up the courage to look at her. ‘Can I stay for two days? Just two, I promise. Won’t be in your way neither, I can go stay at Tara’s or wherever and not come ‘round here but I wanna see them and-‘

‘This is your home,’ Michonne says firmly, eyes on the hot water. ‘I shouldn’t have asked you to leave.’

Daryl dries the plates and doesn’t know what to say.

‘This is your home.’

‘Okay,’ he says softly. ‘Thank you.’

She closes her eyes briefly. ‘Don’t…’ she looks at him, ‘we’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay? You look exhausted.’

‘Yeah. Sure.’ He puts the pan in a cupboard. ‘Is it okay if I take a shower?’

‘You don’t need to ask.’

‘Oh.’ He scratches at the back of his neck and edges towards the staircase. ‘Good night then.’

Michonne braces herself on the edge of the sink while she watches how the dirty water is drained. ’Rick used to be so happy whenever you stopped by. He said he slept better knowing you were under his roof. Not only because he knew you were safe. It made him feel safer too.’

The silence rings out between them, long after he leaves. He sits in the shower, arms wrapped around his knees as cold water beats down on him. It hurts in the same way hot water would do, but leaves no marks. Shivering hands move to his eyes. He pushes the palms into them. ‘So this is the next world,’ he whispers, remembering.

It feels strange to put loose baseball shorts and a tank top on instead of his armor but he forces himself. When he slips into his room, he finds that his bed is occupied. Judith, with her thumb in her mouth and curled around one of his pillows. The dark hair a messy halo. So strikingly similar to Lori that it makes him smile, despite everything.

He puts his weapons on the nightstand and his crossbow against it.

The girl wakes up when he slips under the sheets behind her. ‘I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t leave.’

‘I’m here,’ he tells her as he tugs her close.

‘Your hair is wet.’

‘It smells just like yours. We’re twins now.’

She rolls over and buries herself in his chest. Her voice is tiny when she speaks. ‘You’re cold.’

The scene of all of them sitting around the campfire near the RV seems foreign now. Daryl remembers the very moment, as well as the brushstrokes that brought it to life. How he’d struggled to get Carol’s face right, the expression so much more timid than he’d liked to remember. Andrea and Amy, Dale who they never got to thank for teaching Glenn how to replace the radiator hose.

It boggles his mind that he and Carl are the only ones left out of the picture. The sacrifices of so many only brought the two of them to the safe-zone of Alexandria today. Some nights he wonders whether they would think it was worth it. Some of their deaths were so senseless that Daryl wouldn’t blame them if they wanted a trade.

For a second, he thinks that Judith might count as an Atlanta survivor as well. The thought makes him smile as he walks along the memorial wall until he reaches Shane’s portrait. The hurt of his passing is always present, but fonder memories spring to mind faster now that time has passed. Shane holding his hand as he got stitched up by Hershel, the two of them promising each other to look after Judith; Rick’s kid. Rare days off at the prison spent lazing around together.

He even thinks about their darker days. When they were still figuring each other out, snarling and snapping while they found their footing. Shane dragging him across the courtyard to throw him into a cell as punishment. Him pretending not to care after Shane called him just some kid. Both of them hurting after he’d gone with Will.

Right now, he misses their quiet conversations that always left him feeling both grounded and endlessly optimistic. Misses seeking him out for some peace of mind, to have a soundboard. He misses having someone in his corner.

A glance at the portrait of Glenn has him shivering and feeling guilty. He’d promised he’d look after Maggie and Hershel. He can’t imagine ever not honoring that promise, but there’s too much happening not on his terms.

It’s been a long road, he thinks as he looks from one end of the story to the last picture he’d painted. Ezekiel, Rick, Cyndie, Mason, Dwight and Maggie. The leaders of the New World.

He grabs his radio. The calls signs, the waiting, the somewhat icy tone on the other end of the line.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Daryl says as his fingers turn white on the device. ‘I’m so fucking sorry, I’m an asshole.’

‘You kind of are,’ Taiwo agrees, ‘a surprisingly large amount of the time, too.’

‘I’m at Alexandria.’

‘Yeah I know,’ his boyfriend bites out,’ I’m not stupid. You were with Carl, it wasn’t hard to figure out. I wanted you to tell me, man. I wanted you to tell me _something_.’

‘I know. I’m so sorry.’ Daryl takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. ‘You don’t owe me anything, I know that, but...’

The tension has bled out of him. He feels lighter when he walks through the streets of Alexandria. It’s still early in the morning so there’s hardly anyone around. The people who do spot him, don’t seem surprised so see him. The news of his arrival has travelled through town quickly but they seem hesitant to approach him. Maybe Carl had warned them to keep their distance, maybe Michonne has ordered it. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t really care, either.

The house hasn’t changed much from the outside. The paint is starting to chip and he wonders whether Michonne will allow a run to one of the big hardware stores in the city. Maybe they’ll rig up some scaffolding a couple summers from now, paint the whole thing during a hot summer’s day. Judith could help some by then, and hopefully there will be a little boy or girl playing in the grass nearby with a glint of Rick in their features.

He puts his crossbow high up on the coatrack even though Judith is old enough now to know that she shouldn’t touch it.

Enid is at the kitchen table, reading one of the big medical books while Judith is trying to do her homework next to her. Carl is on watch, but Michonne is making tea at the counter.

‘Good morning, Daryl,’ she says when the sound of his boots on her floors registers.

‘Yeah – can we talk now?’

She seems surprised. ‘Yes. Of course. Do you want to take a walk?’

Five minutes later, they’re slowly making their way towards the stables. He has left his bow behind, which caused some raised eyebrows but he doesn’t need the reassurance the weight of it provides. It’s enough that Michonne has her katana, and that he has his knives and gun.

‘I’m sorry that I told you to leave, Daryl. That wasn’t fair.’

‘No, it wasn’t.’ He puts his hands in his pockets. ‘It wasn’t my fault. You were kicking me out like I had something to do with it, just told me to pack up my shit and leave. I know I ain’t nothing like Carl or Judith to you, but… it weren’t my fault.’

‘It wasn’t,’ Michonne agrees softly. ‘I’m so sorry, Dare.’

‘So why did you do it then?’ Daryl asks, ‘because I had that bag in my hands? Because I hadn’t killed Beta before? Because I should have been out there with him? Do you hate me so much that I-‘

She stops walking. ‘No, I _love_ you, Dare.’

‘You can’t just _say_ that!’ Daryl says. ‘That doesn’t _explain_ anything, it doesn’t _mean_ anything when you kick me to the curb like that. I know you lost so much more, but I were hurting too. And I would have done _anything_ for Rick. Everything.’

‘I know,’ Michonne says. There are tears in her eyes. Her mouth opens and closes but she can’t speak.

‘Why won’t anyone ever fucking say it out loud? Like, I get it. Carl ‘nd Judy are your kids and then this random stray comes lurking about and you want them gone. Hell, you always joke about me giving you guys fleas. That’s it, right? They’re yours and you wanted to protect yours. That’s why you closed the gates and blew up the bridges. That’s why I had to go.’

‘He would have come with you,’ Michonne says. ‘Carl would have come with you, if you’d left – if you’d gone after them. I couldn’t let that happen.’

‘No, he wouldn’t have because they put his brother in the medical bay and cut off his dad’s head. He was _scared_. He would have stayed here, he said so himself yesterday!’

She shakes her head.

‘Maybe if you’d just sat me down and talked to me, _I wouldn’t have ever asked him in the first place_. You thought it was best to kick me out like that,’ he scoffs and aims a kick at a twig on the road. ‘That’s messed up. All y’all acting like I’m some live grenade when you’re the ones pulling the pin. Comes in handy when you need it though, right? Comes in handy when you need someone to take out a convoy of saviors. When some asshole got Maggie ‘nd Glenn! When you’re all fucking starving and we need to take out an outpost. Sure comes in handy then to have a – whatever. Fuck it. I don’t give a shit no more.’ He walks over to the picnic tables nearby and sits down.

Michonne wipes her tears away before sitting down next to him. ‘You’re right,’ she says. ‘We haven’t been treating you right. Rick knew it. Ever since the deal with Negan – he was so sorry. We used to talk about it all the time. How we hadn’t been listening to you. That we – we’ve…’ she shakes her head, ‘we did what we thought was right.’

‘I’m so sick of hearing that,’ Daryl says. ‘And I’m sick of other people deciding what’s right _for me_. It ain’t…’ he looks at her, ‘I know you love me. That Maggie loves me. I know that. It don’t make it right, and I feel like an asshole for saying all this now, I know you’re hurting something fierce, but-‘

‘No. It’s hard to hear, but you should always say it.’ She reaches out tentatively and takes his hand, squeezing it hard.

‘It feels like everyone’s fucking me over behind my back, and then I’m out there; trying to do it all right. Trying to jump every fucking hoop; I’m going to fucking therapy, playing by their rules, letting everyone be all up in my shit all the time to prove I ain’t some rabid dog they have to tie up on a chain outside and it ain’t enough. It’s never enough to be taken seriously by anyone.’ He shakes her hand off and hides behind his own. ‘’cause I’ll turn my back, let everyone deal with stuff and focus on that shit and then I look up and y’all fucking me over with that _deal_.’

She makes a soft noise.

‘What’re we negotiating with them for? What? Kal had a good talk with him. _He’s wearing Merle’s face_ and I’m supposed to be fine with that? Is that for the greater good too?’ He hates that he can feel tears burning in his eyes, hates that he starts to cry. ‘Negan killed your dad and tortured you for months but that’s all in the past now. These people killed your friends but now they’re going to live with you, so play nice. That _asshole_ cut off your brother’s head and is wearing his fucking face but we’re giving him safe passage behind your back, why are you mad about it? That scratch on your face ain’t nothing, princess, you’re still pretty. He killed Rick and I’m supposed to go braid my hair and have a chat with Harlan until I feel better? I’m so fucking sick of it. _I’m so sick of it_.’

Michonne moves closer but he’s glad that she doesn’t put an arm around him. ‘I’m sorry that we haven’t been listening to you, Daryl. We weren’t trying to hurt your feelings. We were trying to do the right thing. I know you don’t want to hear that,’ she says when he opens his mouth, ‘but it’s the truth. We clearly went about it the wrong way.’

He wipes his tears away stubbornly. ‘Ain’t saying it’s all on all y’all. I know I’ve done stupid shit, too.’

‘You have,’ Michonne allows, with a trace of rare humor in her voice. ‘Running away in the middle of all this? That was stupid, Daryl.’

‘Didn’t feel like I had a place to go to.’

She closes her eyes briefly. ‘I know, and I’m sorry. This will always be your home.’

‘It doesn’t feel like it anymore. I know you’re sorry, that you didn’t mean it,’ he tells her when she looks at him. ‘I’ve said plenty of dumb shit when I were mad ‘nd sad, but… I think it’s best if I go someplace else for a while. Let everyone catch their breaths.’

She seems reluctant. ‘Where will you go?’

Judith is exactly his height when she stands on the picnic table near the gates. The big, brown eyes are shielded by the sheriff’s hat. She has to tilt her head back to look at him. ‘Do you promise?’

‘Yeah. I promise I’ll come back, Kicker’

She has to think about it for a second. ‘Okay then,’ she allows before jumping forward and hugging him tightly. There are tears in her eyes when she slides down to land on the ground. The hat is tugged down again as she turns on her heels to run to Carl, who lets her lean against his side.

Daryl slings his bag over one shoulder and walks over to the car that’s waiting for him in front of the gates. It’s a pretty sleek model, but the color has faded to a strange green. The window on the passenger’s side is down, and Felix is sitting in the sill, arms on the top of the car and blonde hair shockingly bright as always.

Hakeem is leaning against the side and is already munching on one of the tomato’s Michonne had given them for the road. When he sees that Daryl’s approaching, he twirls the keys around his finger and makes his way over to the driver’s seat to pop the trunk.

‘Is that all?’ Taiwo asks as he watches how Daryl throws his pack into the trunk before placing his crossbow on top of it with more care.

‘Yeah. Good to go.’

His boyfriend closes the trunk with a bang and slides onto the backseat, behind his friend.

Daryl looks back at Carl.

They flick each other off at the same time.

The gates open as soon as he and Felix slide into their seats as well. The motor rumbles, there’s a cd playing some tune he doesn’t know, and then they’re through the gates, maneuvering slowly past the various walker traps until Hakeem can open the gas, and then they’re gone.

Daryl looks at Taiwo, who’s pointedly staring out of his own window. He reaches out to take his boyfriend’s hand. ‘Hey, thanks for coming to pick me up.’

Taiwo pulls his hand back. ‘Yeah, no problem.’

‘ _No problem_?’ Felix asks as he twists in his seat to look at his best friend. ‘Do you know what I had to _sell_ to get them to fill this baby up? I’m gonna miss my kidney’s, man. We were close, you know? Real tight!’

Daryl laughs softly and looks at his boyfriend.

Taiwo looks back out of the window.

‘This is going to be one awkward road trip home,’ Felix says as he rolls down his window and puts his feet up on the dashboard. ‘I don’t even know how I got roped into doing this. I’m glad you’re coming to stay with us, Dare, don’t get me wrong, but it’s my day off! Sure, I’ll get up at the butt crack of dawn to race down to Alexandria – can you run to Oceanside next time, Dare? We’ll pick you up from there next time.’

‘Why Oceanside?’ Daryl asks.

Felix sighs, ‘why _Oceanside_? You sure you’re not just straight up gay, man? There are so many girls there and they are- _I’m kidding_!’ he squeaks when Taiwo leans forward to clip him over the back of his head. ‘Don’t tell Amaka I said that. Fine! Fine, the Sanctuary then. We’ve never been to the Sanctuary, people say it’s a factory? Sounds kind of boring to be honest, but-‘

‘Shut up about that place, man,’ Taiwo warns after a glance at Daryl.

‘He probably just wants to ogle Beth.’

Taiwo’s smiles at him. It’s sudden and gone quick. ‘Probably. Asshole.’


	9. Ordinary

* * *

It’s easier, because Mason doesn’t owe him anything. Daryl can’t possibly blame him for choosing to accept the deal and protect his people before they got dragged into a war they were never part of. He never really knew Merle, never knew any of the victims beside some fleeting introductions except for Rick; and even he had been barely more than myth and legend on the other side of their world.

Mason doesn’t care about him the way Ezekiel does, doesn’t consider him family like most other community leaders. He’s a welcome guest at Washington, always waved in with a smile and given every luxury Mason would grant any other visitor, but nothing more. It’s a good thing that Mason isn’t easily impressed by the stories either. The title Daryl carries is meaningless in Washington, the words reduced to just a nickname, and he has rules to follow here.

While the people of Washington are still fascinated by the stories and histories of the New World, they’ve grown used to having Daryl around. He’s no longer chased by curious children whenever he visits, and the adults don’t feel the need to keep an eye on him at all times. The insistent questions fade into playful jabs and interesting conversations, which makes him feel more at ease.

It almost surprises him how at home he feels when they park the car in one of the garages and Daryl grabs his stuff from the trunk. Felix is walking ahead with Taiwo but Hakeem waited for him so they cross the street together to get to the metro station.

‘Everything all right with Vera?’

Hakeem nods but then pulls a face and points at his throat. The fingers move quickly to form a word.

‘King? The kingdom,’ Daryl says as he tries to keep up. ‘Your throat, what? Oh! Oh, she still wants you to go to that doctor at the kingdom?’

Hakeem’s closed fists bops up and down in confirmation.

‘What? You’re not into it? I thought it helped some last time. She said you’d talked to her.’

Hakeem shrugs.

‘Yeah, I guess it doesn’t really matter when you’re here, right? They understand you fine,’ he gestures to the two friends who’re sliding down the staircase. It’s more difficult to do with his pack and bow, so he’s grateful that Hakeem just walks down. ‘Everyone else can learn.’

The other teen looks over as if to see whether he’s joking but then grins and nods. He points at Daryl.

‘I know I’m bad at sign language,’ Daryl laughs. ‘Sorry that you have to dumb it down so much with me, I’ll study more. You know what? Shut your damn mouth, I’m trying. Oh fuck you,’ he laughs when Hakeem points at his throat again and looks helpless before laughing silently. ‘You know what I mean. Stop waving your damn hands at me, then.’

Felix is already leaning against the big door. ‘Is he being mean to you, Keem? We can just leave him outside, with the trash.’ He glances at Taiwo, probably expecting the usual snarky remark in defense of his boyfriend, but there’s just stony silence. ‘ _Where he belongs_ ,’ he adds just to get a response. The one he does get causes his eyes to go wide as he quickly backs up against the door. ‘ _I was kidding_!’

‘You always are,’ Daryl slowly lowers his knife so it’s no longer pointing at Felix’s nose. ’You better watch your mouth, sunshine.’

The door opens which causes Felix to stumble but he regains his balance as he backs up. He’s laughing as he looks at the wicked knife that glints in the artificial light coming from the community. ‘That one’s pretty sweet though, when it’s not making me go cross-eyed. They gave you two of those?’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl grins as he puts it in its sheath. ‘And you ain’t getting none of them, don’t get no ideas.’

Felix laughs and slings his arm around Hakeem’s shoulders. ‘Hey, what are you laughing about? I was trying to come to your aid there, and you’re laughing at me? I didn’t – I didn’t look that scared, man, stop making that face! No, no, hey – you’re the one who just laughed when he pointed a knife at my face, and it’s a pretty face! No, don’t deny. I have a pretty face!’

Daryl shakes his head as he follows the two friends. The smile on his own face disappears when Taiwo falls into step beside him. The fact that it causes his stomach to shrink and spine to tingle isn’t a good sign. He keeps expecting Taiwo to blow up, to get a punch in, to say something cutting but instead there’s just silent rejection.

A turned head. A joke ignored. A hand pulled away.

He doesn’t seem angry, but Daryl can feel how it simmers just below the surface.

They’ve fought before, of course, but that had been mostly him blowing up, getting into Taiwo’s face or slamming him with everything ugly he could think of at the time, mostly about himself. ‘Hey,’ Daryl says softly as he reaches out to touch Taiwo’s upper arm. ‘I know I gotta, like, report to Mason ‘nd everything, but… can we talk? After that?’

Taiwo glances at him and shrugs. ‘I dunno – I’m hungry, man, and Makie’s probably already waiting for us. And Vera. So…’

‘After that,’ Daryl insists.

‘Fine,’ the other man says, but he doesn’t sound too happy about it. ‘You know the way to Mason’s place, right?’ He doesn’t wait for the answer because Mason’s office is right up the stairs, and everyone knows where that is. He jumps down to the tracks, greeting some people from the community before making his way over towards the small terrace out by the kitchen on another platform.

Daryl watches how he easily hops up onto it and joins his friends and sister, how he disappears into the crowd and doesn’t look back. There’s nothing he can do about it now, Daryl decides as he heads up the stairs. As soon as he steps into the office, he is send out again to wait his turn because Mason’s busy. He sits down on the chair next to the door, feeling slightly stumped.

He’s never been made to wait before.

By the time he’s called in, he’s laughing and feeling light as a feather.

Mason welcomes him back and has no trouble with taking him up on the offer to contribute. There’s no “you’ve done enough”, no “there really is no need”, no “you deserve some rest”. He’s put on the hunting roster like anyone else. The rules and consequences are laid out and there are no exceptions for him, instead, there’s a warning. No more tricking the guards to let him out on his own, no more sneaking in and out whenever he wants to, or he’s out. Just like that.

Daryl nods and says ‘yes, sir’, and gets the keys to one of the rooms beneath the staircase. When he unlocks the door, he realizes that it’s not the big one for guests on the corner. This one doesn’t have any windows. There’s no desk, no closet, no chair. There’s a bed and barely enough room to walk around it.

He loves it.

With his hands clasped around a hot mug of tea, Daryl watches how Taiwo trades stories with the other guards. The lights above them are powering down to signal that it’s getting late, and the last change of shifts has just occurred, so most the guards are eating their dinner and relaxing after their duties. The ones on the night shift just left, and Daryl had been surprised Tai hadn’t rostered himself in as he’s usually part of that group.

Taiwo’s avoiding him, but Daryl doesn’t really mind all that much. He’s sitting on the edge of the first platform, in front of his room, and figures that Taiwo will make his way over when he’s ready.

‘Hey,’ Amaka sits down next to him. Her legs swing gently as she looks up and down the tracks before smiling at him. ‘Dinner was a bit hectic, I didn’t get a chance to say – I’m glad you came here. How have you been?’

He considers lying but doesn’t see the point. ‘Not too hot,’ he says.

‘Yeah.’ Her voice is quiet. ‘Why didn’t you come here straight away?’

‘Figured it would be the first place anyone would look. I wanted to be on my own a while – get my head on straight again. Everything’s just been so fucked up. One messed up thing after another, never had no time to take breath, right? I wanted to be on my own a while.’

‘Did it help?’

Daryl takes a sip of his tea and shrugs. ‘Felt like I were gonna explode when I left. Don’t no more, so… I guess it helped some. I’m just… I’m tired, y’know? In my head.’

‘I get that,’ she says, and he doesn’t doubt her. ‘He’s really happy you’re here, you know that, right?’ Her gaze lingers on her twin for a moment. ‘This _was_ the first place they looked, I’m pretty sure. We only heard the news when Maggie called Mason to double the guards again and keep an eye out for you. He stopped by our place to relay the news instead of calling us up to the office. I guess he wanted to check that you weren’t hiding under the bed or something.’

Daryl snorts. ‘Yeah, figured something like that would happen. A shake-down from the Kingdom if I hadn’t turned up sooner.’

‘Probably. The king sounded pretty upset. They all did. Two weeks is a long time now, anything could happen. To anyone.’ She plucks at one of her braids. The tiny elastic band on the end has come undone and she’s slowly picking it apart. ‘Tai was pretty upset. We all were of course, but…’

‘I know. I shouldn’t have done that; running away, not saying nothing to him about it. While I were walking over yonder, to that town, I kept thinking; I’m gonna call him, but… I didn’t want to talk to anyone _nice_.’ He runs his finger over the rim of his glass. ‘Used to happen all the time. Stuff would go bad at home, I’d sit out on the porch, toughin’ it out, keeping my chin up so none of those nosy ass neighbors would start sticking their noses in, but… soon as I heard that roar of Merle’s motorcycle? Hmm,’ He smiles, ‘just broke down. Bawlin’ ‘nd everything.’

‘As much as it pains him,’ Amaka says as she gently knocks their shoulders together, ‘I think Tai would rather see you cry than have you disappear on your own.’

Daryl bites on his lip. ‘Ain’t about him seeing it. I just…. Whenever, like…’ he shakes his head. ‘Bad stuff happens when I break.’

‘Bad stuff happens when you’re _alone_.’

He makes a soft noise of understanding.

‘We can help,’ Amaka insists. ‘It’s not just Tai, you know? We all care about you. You’re our friend. We want to help. I know Felix is pretty useless in general, but he is funny and very willing to entertain you until you laugh so there’s that.’

Daryl smiles. ‘Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry for worrying you guys, too. How’ve you been?’

Amaka looks at him pointedly, ‘ _worried_.’ She laughs when he winces. ‘Worried but well, thank you. Everything’s been quiet here, the whisperers never even knew we came from the city, so…. It’s been quiet around here, just the usual stuff from the other stations. Hey. There’s a rumor that you’ve got a new horse.’

‘Yeah, Julia ‘nd king Ezekiel gave her to me. They named her Eshu.’

‘You didn’t bring her?’

‘Nah, left her at Hilltop. Were kind of regretting doing that half-way over to that town, it sucked having to walk all that way, but the bike would have woken everyone up and camping out like that would have put her in danger. I wasn’t gonna lose her to some stray walker managing to sneak into the garage while I were out hunting or something.’

‘Right,’ Amaka looks to their right and then gets up. Taiwo is walking over with his hands in his pockets, kicking a piece of plastic along the tracks. ‘Be sure to bring her around next time. The Kingdom has the best horses, and everyone is talking about yours, so I’d love to see her. Hey,’ she says, which causes him to tear his gaze away from his boyfriend. ‘I’m glad you’re here. Truly.’

‘Thanks, Makie.’

She laughs at the use of the nickname, something which snuck into his brain after hearing Taiwo call her that all the time. With easy grace, she jumps down onto the tracks and pulls herself up to the next platform. Two more platforms before she reaches the train and disappears inside, probably in search of her friends.

‘Hey,’ Taiwo mutters as he comes to a stop next to Daryl and leans against the platform with his hip. ‘So… they gave you a room or a bunk or something?’

‘Yeah, Mason gave me the other guestroom. I’m a bit new to everyone else still to just get a bunk on the train.’

‘So he gave you a closet instead. Nice of him.’

Daryl smiles at the sarcastic tone. ‘I like it.’

‘Bit different than your suite in Hilltop, or the mansion you copped in that town.’

‘Four walls and a roof – all I need.’

Taiwo shrugs. ‘Okay.’

‘Come on,’ Daryl carefully gets up so he won’t spill his tea and beckons his friend. ‘I’ll show you.’

It almost surprises him that he hears a soft grunt behind him to signal that Taiwo is pulling himself up to the platform to follow him into the small room. There really isn’t a lot of room. He sidles down one side of the bed to sit down and Taiwo pointedly sits down on the edge near the door. They’re as far away from each other as possible in the space, but Daryl doesn’t mind.

Taiwo kicks the door closed with his foot. He doesn’t say anything.

‘I’m sorry,’ Daryl says, ‘about a lot of things, man. I should have told you that I was leaving and where I was going. Shouldn’t have kept you in the dark like that, that was messed up. When I finally called – I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought maybe people wouldn’t realize Carl ‘nd me would head back to Alexandria. I didn’t want Maggie or anyone to turn up there. That’s why I didn’t tell you where I was going, in case they were listening.’

‘ _I’m going to Alexandria, don’t come looking for me_ , would have worked just fine,’ Taiwo grumbles.

‘Yeah. I wasn’t thinking.’

‘Yeah.’ Taiwo shifts so he’s more comfortable and no longer sitting on the very edge. ‘Have you spoken to Maggie at all?’

‘No. Carl radioed her after he’d found me. She knows I’m fine.’ Daryl sits back against the headboard. ‘Well, I ain’t fucking _fine_ , but… you know. Ain’t bit or nothing.’

Taiwo nods but then frowns and looks up. ‘What happened? We’ve only heard bits and pieces. Felix could hear a lot since he’s Mo’s apprentice now, their office is linked to Mason’s and they have a radio, too. There was a lot of chatter at first and then nothing for a while, until the news broke you’d left.’

‘You know about that deal?’

‘Yeah. Mason kind of had to tell us, after you’d done a runner like that. They thought you’d go after those whisperers to get some revenge. They went behind your back, too? With the deal?’

‘They said that Kal had found them, somewhere near our border. I thought it was weird they let me come, weirder still that Maggie joined the group as well. It’s usually her or me, right? So someone stays with Kiss. So we went all the way out there, only to find some dead bodies and the most obvious fucking trail crossing our border anyone has ever seen.’

Taiwo snorts.

‘They didn’t need me to track them,’ Daryl says with a huff of bitter laughter. ‘They needed me to see that they’d left, I wouldn’t have believed them otherwise. But I was standing in that clearing, with those bodies and the trail and Maggie there and… you know those plays they perform for kids at the Kingdom, with the puppets? You think it’s real as a kid, right? But then you’re a bit older and suddenly you see all those strings working… Hmm. Were like that. It just didn’t make any sense until I could see the strings.’

Taiwo nods. ‘But if there really was a herd, don’t you think Maggie didn’t have a cho-‘

‘It ain’t about _the deal_ ,’ Daryl says sharply. ‘Hell, maybe this is what’s best. Just let them fuck off to God knows where and be done with it all. What do I know, right? But that monster took my brother’s face and handed me Rick’s head in a bag, and Maggie… I’m _sick_ of people lying to my face.

‘Everyone’s always acting like I’m the fucked up one. That ain’t a problem when they need some kind of attack dog, as long as they can hold the leash, right? Any other time they’re locking me up in the Kingdom, or sending me over to Harlan or – and I was dumb enough to think – like, _Maggie_ ain’t ever going to fuck me over. ‘Cause we’re a team. It’s always been us, right?’ He makes a throw-away gesture. ‘Didn’t mean shit. Was all bull.’

Taiwo shifts closer. ‘You’re angry and-‘

‘Do you know how fucked up it is that I was standing at that border, right next to her, realizing all that shit, and I thought; _shit… I should have let Negan out. I should have set him free, should have given him Lucille. He would have dealt with Beta. He would have killed them all for hurting me_.’ He hates that his hands are shaking.

With a sigh, Taiwo gets up and walks over to the headboard to sit down again, right next to Daryl this time. Their shoulders brush as he gets settled. He picks at his fingernails for a second and then scrunches up his nose as he looks at his boyfriend. ‘That’s pretty fucked up, to be honest. I get being angry at Maggie, but _Negan_? Come on, man.’

Daryl leans against him and is glad that he’s not moving away again. ‘Yeah. It’s what I thought. I know what you were trying to say; I’m angry and Maggie tried to do what she thought best… I know. I get it, but that don’t mean it _is_ right.’

‘She’s your mom,’ Taiwo says softly, ‘of course she’ll do anything to keep you out of harm’s way. If that’s trying to keep you out of the loop, focused on other stuff? It’s what every parent would have done. They rather have you be angry, than you be dead.’

‘Yeah. That still doesn’t make it right, though. I just … I needed to get away for a while. Calm down. I think that’s best for everyone.’

‘Okay.’ Taiwo’s fingertips touch Daryl’s jeans. ‘Does that mean you’re staying a while?’

‘Mason put me on the roster and everything, so, yeah… I mean, if that’s okay?’

Taiwo nods and then scrunches up his nose. ‘You know you can still come here even if we’re not… like this anymore, right?’

The blood in his veins freezes. ‘We’re… we’re not like... that, anymore?’

Taiwo looks horrified. ‘What? No! Yes! Yes, we are like that! God, we’re not breaking up, right?’

‘You tell me!’

‘No, we’re not breaking up!’

Daryl laughs as he puts a hand over his heart, ‘good lord. Don’t scare me like that.’

‘ _You_ don’t scare me like that. I thought you were dead for sure when Maggie called to ask if you were here.’

The laughter disappears. Daryl shifts so he can look at his boyfriend. ‘I really am sorry. I’m just piling all this shit on you, but… I’m really sorry. Fucking hypocritical that I’m mad as hell that nobody is telling me nothing, and I’m leaving you all high ‘nd dry at the same time. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to get away – from everybody. I’m sorry.’

‘You’re an asshole,’ Taiwo tells him. ‘Next time you won’t be a forgiven asshole, okay?’

‘Deal.’

Taiwo grins. ‘Okay.’

Daryl shimmies down and smiles when Taiwo does the same, both of them lying on the covers but with their heads on the pillows now. ‘What have you been up to since you got back?’

Most stories are filled with names that don’t have any faces attached to them yet, but they’re amusing anyway. Wild stories involving Felix and Hakeem, the three of them getting into trouble in the city. Sad stories about a run gone wrong at another station and names being added to the list on the memorial platform. Plain old gossip that makes them both snigger.

In the end, Taiwo falls asleep and Daryl doesn’t have the heart to wake him. He carefully unties his boyfriend’s boots and takes them off, makes sure he isn’t carrying his knife before stripping himself of his weapons as well. He scoots closer onto the bed, scared that Taiwo will wake up and choose to go stay in his own room.

He doesn’t, and Daryl sleeps.

Oddly enough, Daryl loves to hunt in the city. When he’d stumbled out of his room earlier this morning, he’d thought the hunters would get on horses or at least take the tunnel to the edge of the city where they could slip into the forest. Instead, they simply set out from the gate, wandering through the streets and occasionally dipping into an alleyway to check some snares.

Nature has reclaimed large parts of the city. Concrete is cracked open in odd places to let tree trunks out. Bushes and vines grow from sewers, walls help flowers climb higher and higher. It had never crossed his mind that between all the new green, animals would feel pretty safe as well. In the early morning, rabbits shoots across intersections and baby birds chirp from atop the traffic lights.

The guys he’s with teach him how to read the city until it no longer feels like an empty shell of the old world. It’s been a long time since someone taught him anything about hunting and he soaks up the knowledge with greed and enthusiasm. At the end of the day, he finds it easier to pinpoint where a sound came from which not only makes it easier to have his shot lined up before he even sees his pray, but it also makes the city seem less hostile. The unfamiliar sounds had spooked him in the beginning; too much metal, too many echoes, too many strange shadows. They all start to feel more familiar and friendly.

By the time they make their way back, most of the hunters have a full string of small game hanging off their shoulders. Daryl’s significantly lighter but nobody mentions it. They’re all laughing and talking as they walk down the staircase and wait for the big doors to open.

When they do, one guy pushes past Daryl and plops his string onto the younger man’s shoulder. ‘Make sure they get cleaned.’

A woman throws her line onto his shoulder as well. ‘Good job today. Tell the kitchen not to overcook them this time.’

‘Ahw, come on, Em,’ another guy laughs, ‘we’re off loading on the greenie now?’

‘The new guy brings the game in,’ Emma says with a shrug, ‘that’s the way it is. Besides, he’s young, look at him! If the kitchen needs help cleaning those kills? He can keep his eyes open for long enough. I need a nap.’

Daryl smirks and holds his hand out for the other lines. ‘You all look like you need a damn beauty sleep. I’ll take care of this.’

The guys hoot and holler while the women give his shoulder a playful push but they all hand their game over and make their way over to the train while Daryl turns to the left to get to the kitchen. It’s quiet there, with only one cook taking stock at the moment. He’s grateful when Daryl offers to help clean the kills.

With a bloody bucket between his feet, a small pile of hides on his right and blood splattered onto his cheek, is how Mason finds him an hour later. The leader looks pleased to see him, a small smile barely hidden behind the stern front.

‘Good hunt?’

Daryl squints up at him with a smile, ‘they all had a good hunt. I got a good lesson. I’ll get better, don’t worry.’

Mason nods. ‘That’s what it was all about, right? Connecting the communities to learn from each other.’

‘I guess so.’

‘Maggie radioed while you were out. She wants to speak to you.’

Daryl hands the meat over to the cook, who cuts it up with efficient slices. ‘Right. What did you say?’

‘That I am not your answering machine. We don’t have a system with missed calls here, our people aren’t spread out over the communities; we have no need for any such system. We were willing to indulge you radioing Taiwo, but I’m not taking messages from Maggie, Paul Rovia, Beth, the King, Oceanside and Alexandria. I have other things to do.’

‘Of course, yeah – sorry if they’ve been bothering you,’

‘They haven’t yet,’ Mason says and the corner of his lips turns up, ‘and I have made myself very clear to all parties, so I doubt they will in the future. I thought I’d just let you know, in case you were foolish enough to think they’d forgotten about you.’

Daryl snorts. ‘Yeah – nah. Thank you.’ He makes a deep cut and lets the guts of a small animal spill into the bucket. ‘Did you tell Maggie I’d arrived safely?’

‘I did. She’d rather hear it from you though.’

Daryl gets up and throws the last carcass on the cook’s chopping board. He cleans his hands with one of his rags, staining it red. ‘I’m sure she would. Thank you for letting me know, sir.’

Mason nods. He turns on his heels but then stops. ‘If she asks during our check-ins, I will let them know how you are. And if they stop by, I will not turn them away.’

‘Never thought Washington would be the kinda place that would turn their own away,’ Daryl says. ‘Thanks for the heads up. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.’

‘You’re a good man to have around,’ Mason says, and Daryl expects to hear something about his status or his ability to hunt or kill, but the older man rubs at his beard and then laughs. ‘Taiwo turns into a sulky mess whenever you’re gone too long, so it’s probably best if you could stick around for a while.’

Daryl feels his cheeks heat up but he grins. ‘I could do that.’

There’s a record lying on the ground. The sleeve has a picture of a motorcycle on it. It doesn’t make any sense that the sight of it makes his knees weak or that he needs to sit down on the ground with tears in his eyes. Shaking hands pick the record up to have a closer look. It’s not even the same motorcycle. Not even remotely the same. It’s some flashy sports model in hideous neon colors, nothing like the black chopper he only vaguely remembers being parked on their lawn.

There’s a sadness that crawls under his very skin to invade his whole being. Limbs suddenly feel heavy, his throat tight, his head filled with cotton. Tears slowly drip down his cheeks until they tickle down his neck or fall from his jawline. He sits with his back against the bed and lets the record fall onto the ground as he presses the heels of hands into his eyes while he cries.

A sudden loud thumb on the outside of the train causes him to flinch but there’s not enough time to hide the sadness and tears before Vera swings into the room. She’s laughing, ‘do not come anywhere near the kitchens right now. Felix had to clean up and knocked – you know that ginormous pan of soup Romy made? He knocked it over. She’s _livid_. Hakeem needs to help clean up because he was laughing and _wasting food is not a joking matter_ ,’ she says while imitating Romy with her voice. ‘So be warned – oh.’ The smile is gone instantly when she spots him.

Daryl works his jaw and pulls at his fingers until it hurts. ‘Okay. I won’t. Thanks.’

‘Yeah… sure.’ Vera’s voice is softer as she approaches. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah,’ he says even though his voice shakes and he can’t stop crying. ‘Fine.’

She sits down next to him.

He loops his arms around his bent knees and hides.

A warm hand rubs circles into his back.

He’s glad she doesn’t ask whether she should run and get Taiwo, or even Amaka or Hakeem. Doesn’t offer to radio Maggie, doesn’t comment on the fact that he is certainly not fine, doesn’t call him out on the tears and the shaking and the fact that his fingernails are now digging into his own scalp until he can’t stand it anymore.

She just sits there, her hand heavy and warm on his back, grounding him until he can breathe again. It takes a long time but she doesn’t seem to mind. Eventually, he sits back again, head now pounding and his nose stuffed.

‘Sorry,’ he says, voice hoarse.

‘Yeah, really inconvenient that you’re sad,’ Vera mutters sarcastically. ‘Jees, dripping all over the floor like that.’

Daryl snorts. ‘It’s usually blood that’s dripping onto someone’s floor, guess this ain’t so bad.’

‘No guess not,’ Vera says with a wrinkled nose, ‘and somehow, I’m not even that surprised by you having to go around apologizing to people for bleeding on their hardwood floors.’

‘Floors, couches, beds – whatever was available. Way back when, I got shot in the head and woke up in this real nice bed, right? It was the first thing I thought; like, God, Hershel’s gonna be _pissed_ that I’m messing up his nice stuff.’ Daryl smiles at the memory. ‘He wasn’t though. Oh – Maggie’s dad. We crashed at his place in the beginning.’

‘The farm. I know,’ Vera says, ‘Carl told me about it when we were looking at the pictures at Alexandria. During the fair.’

‘Right.’ He thinks about how he’ll have to add a panel for Merle and Rick. He feels bile rise in his throat as he shivers. ‘Do you think Felix is done cleaning up? Kinda want some of that tea. ‘s pretty cold here.’

She doesn’t mention that the door is kept open because the heat of summer is creeping into the station. Instead, she gets up. ‘I don’t think we’re in a laughing mood, anyway. Yeah, let’s go get some.’ When he gets up too, she stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. She pulls one of her long sleeves over the palm of her hand and roughly wipes his face clean. ‘Sorry I’m not great at cheering people up.’

The scratchy fabric against his skin, combined with the pressure she puts behind the wipe-down, hurts but it makes him laugh nonetheless. He ducks aside and pushes her arm away. ‘You’ll be getting’ some practice in with me around.’

‘Good,’ Vera grins before she pulls him into a tight hug.

‘Thanks,’ Daryl murmurs into her shoulder.

‘Oh, am I interrupting something special?’ Taiwo’s leaning against the doorpost, legs crossed at his ankles, fond smile on his face.

‘Two something specials, actually,’ Vera says as she pulls away, hand lingering on Daryl’s biceps to give him an encouraging squeeze. ‘We were just going back down to the kitchen – has Felix cleaned up his mess yet?’

‘He’s letting Hakeem do all the work.’

Vera frowns and heads out. ‘Oh no he won’t.’

Taiwo bites back his grin until she’s gone. ‘I’m just kidding, they’ve cleaned it up,’ he tells his boyfriend. ‘My shift starts in about an hour, we can hang out on the station for a while? Or we could stay here,’ he adds hastily, ‘if you’d rather…. Err… stay here. Inside, I mean.’

‘No, we can go to the station. We were heading down there just now anyway.’

‘Okay, yeah.’ Taiwo falls into step beside him. An arm snakes around his waist, a hand sinks into the back pocket of his jeans. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Kinda.’

Taiwo presses a kiss to his temple. ‘That’s good enough for now. Come on, let’s go.’


	10. If you get lost...

* * *

Life at Washington station is both easy and difficult.

It’s easy because nobody treats him like he’s a time-bomb, passing him between care-takers until he explodes into one of their faces. Nobody is scared to put him to work and nobody seems particularly bothered when he takes a morning off when he’s not feeling his best, because they know he always makes up for it later. He’s just one of the guys, easily accepted by the community.

It’s difficult because there’s still this gnawing sensation at the back of his mind that this isn’t his home, that he shouldn’t be taking up so much space, so much time. He’s constantly worrying about whether Taiwo’s getting sick of him yet, or whether Amaka is starting to get annoyed with him hanging out in their room so often.

Of course he misses Hershel, misses Maggie despite the simmering anger he still feels towards her, misses Paul and Aaron. Sometimes he’ll catch the sound of Beth on the radio when he passes by Mason’s office and he’ll linger for a second on the landing just to hear her voice. There’s a radio in his pack and there are nights when he wants to turn it on to see who’s still awake.

There are nights he wants to turn it on because he had this nightmare and he’s scared and Merle had told him to call when-

Those are night he doesn’t go back to sleep, too scared to face his brother in another dream, too scared that he’ll be gone there, too. Those nights he’s glad that Taiwo’s there, warm and unassuming, limbs heavy with sleep and no longer scared of the screams and flashes of nightmare-anger. Cold feet touching his, hot breath against his shoulder, a hand covering the tattoo on his chest. He doesn’t sleep, but he still feels better in the morning.

He starts to learn what the noises mean. The strange static rumbling that will start up just before the first lights will come on, the rush of air when one of the runners opens a hatch to drop down into the tunnels somewhere in the darkness, the groans of metal coming from the train when doors are closed. It’s not quite soothing, but he feels more at ease when he starts to recognize the patterns of the new community.

Right now, he’s staring up at the ceiling as the lights start to come on outside. Soft light spills onto the floor from beneath the door, because it doesn’t quite close properly. It’s his day off, which also means that Taiwo is sleeping next to him. His boyfriend doesn’t like to wake up early for Daryl’s hunting shifts when he has just finished his own night guard duty. He didn’t have a shift on the wall last night though, so he’s sleeping soundly next to him.

Daryl yawns and stretches. It feels odd that he’s still expecting his door to open so Dante can drop Hershel off in his bed before the man will go down to the stables, that he won’t sit under that big tree today to finish up a drawing, that he isn’t able to finally take Eshu out for a ride on his day off.

There are upsides to being here, of course, he thinks with a smile when he feels Taiwo’s hand wander towards his stomach, fingertips roaming over exposed skin as the other man starts to wake up. They curl around his hipbone, the arm heavy across his body.

With a soft groan, Taiwo shifts closer, pressing his forehead against Daryl’s bare shoulder. ‘’m ‘ed.’

Daryl smiles and arches an eyebrow, ‘what was that?’

‘I’m tired.’

The Dixon laughs softly. ‘Good morning to you too.’

‘Hate mornings,’ Taiwo grumbles as he tries to hide his face between Daryl’s shoulder and his pillow.

‘I know you do,’ Daryl says as he shimmies down and leans over to kiss his boyfriend’s neck before pushing him gently to his back and letting his own hands wander. ‘Bet I can make it better though.’

Taiwo’s eyes are dark when he grins, ‘yeah?’

Daryl hums and kisses a promise into the darker skin as he kicks the blankets down towards the end of the bed. It eventually slides off the bed entirely when they flip, one foot giving it the final push though neither cares or pays any mind to it at all. The noises of the tunnel and lights fade when they focus on each other, though the loud footsteps on the staircase right above their heads causes Taiwo’s moan to turn into sniggers and soft shushing noises as they try to quiet one another.

Not too longer after, Taiwo’s grinning up at the ceiling as he stretches and falls backs into the cushions.

Daryl curls up around his pillow with a softer smile on his face. ‘Told you.’

‘Oh I’m feeling way better,’ Taiwo grins as he reaches out and pushes his shoulder, ‘don’t go back to sleep. You always sleep right after!’

‘’s because I were doing all the work.’

‘I don’t want you getting lazy,’ Taiwo says but his tone is light and teasing. ‘I mean, it’s already your day off… the lights are turning on and you’re still in bed? Come on, man. And I still need to work later, so it’s only fair that you’re doing _all the work_ now.’

Daryl snorts but stretches out again, reluctantly stuffing the pillow under his head, ‘fine. What work, by the way? I thought you weren’t on the roster tonight?’

‘Oh, no – I need to make a run to another station. It’s not really work, but we got notice that some orders are done at Georgette’s place.’ Taiwo swings his legs over the edge of the bed and puts his underwear on before hunting down his jeans and shirt. ‘Mason doesn’t like it when I just roam around the tunnels or city for no reason, so I thought I’d might as well head over there. Get out of the station for a bit. It gets crowded.’

Daryl cringes and he grabs a blanket to cover himself. ‘Yeah,’ he tries to sound casual and not let the hurt or fear bleed through at the thought that he might be doing the crowding. ‘Sure. Georgette’s the one who makes the armor, right?’

‘What? Oh – yeah,’ Taiwo pulls his shirt over his head before realizing its inside out.

Daryl doesn’t mind that he takes it off again.

‘Hey, do you want to come with me?’

The sudden exclamation causes Daryl’s eyes to go wide and dart back up to Taiwo’s face. The other boy looks amused as he waits for an answer.

‘Come with? What- to another station?’ He sits up but then hesitates, ‘do you think Mason would be okay with that? Last time I was here, he didn’t even want anyone to mention the names of those stations when I were around.’

‘Last time you were here, you weren’t _living_ here,’ Taiwo says, ‘but I’ll check with him to be sure.’ He inspects his dao before sliding it in place on his belt, then he carefully walks along the side of the bed before giving his boyfriend a final kiss. ‘You get breakfast and lunch to go, and I’ll go ask Mason.’ At the door he turns around, ‘For two! You got the points for it now. Breakfast and lunch _for two_.’

Even though the sounds are getting more familiar now, Daryl doubts that he’ll ever be at ease down in the tunnels. It’s too dark, even once his eyes have gotten used to the lack of light. His boots keep bumping into bolts or tripping over the rails. The lack of immediate exits causes his stomach to cramp. The only thing that eases his mind at the moment is the confidence with which Taiwo leads them on. He’s gotten so used to the tunnels that he’s walking along while balancing on the rails, never slipping from it, only hopping down when they need change directions. They climb through abandoned trains, which haven’t been cleared because they block or at least slow down walkers in the system. They pass smaller stations and service platforms, some of which are now used as memorials to those who died in the tunnels.

‘Have you ever gotten lost?’ Daryl asks as they pass an intersection. It all looks the same to him, though he knows some people feel like that when they’re out in the woods. The city folk who get nervous because of snapping twigs and rustling leaves. He’s like that whenever rats scurry away, or when water rushes through old pipes after it has rained.

‘Once,’ Taiwo says as he looks over his shoulder. He’s standing on one of the beams, just on the tips of his toes, heels hovering above the ground. A hand has gripped the strap of his backpack, the other rests with ease on his dao.

‘How did you get back?’

‘I didn’t,’ Taiwo says as a frown draws his brows together. ‘Are you still scared? I told you that you can use the light they gave you.’

Daryl ducks his head and steps up beside him. ‘You ain’t using one.’

‘I’ve been running through these tunnels since the stations were established. It’s not about being tough, it’s about getting out on the other side.’ The corner of his mouth twists up, ‘and I’m not feeling too safe when you’re twitching like that behind me while holding a crossbow.’

‘Ain’t even holding it,’ Daryl mutters but he still reaches into his pocket to grab the small light one of the guards had passed him. He clips it onto the trap of his backpack and flicks it on. The light is harsh, a strange pale blue in all this darkness.

Taiwo’s pupils are tiny when he smiles and leans forward, a soft kiss claimed in just a second. ‘Good.’

‘What happened?’ Daryl asks softly, fingertips resting against his boyfriend’s armor. ‘When you got lost down here?’

Taiwo’s eyes close but then open again. ‘My dad was still alive. It was at the beginning, we’d just started to use the tunnels to reach other stations. So many entrances hadn’t been secured yet, no exits mapped out – nothing. People would go down and never come back. They’d send out the toughest, right? Our best fighters.’

Daryl nods.

‘I wanted to show I was tough, too. That I was a man, too. I wasn’t,’ Taiwo says, ‘just a stupid boy who’d found a sword somewhere and thought it looked cool. My dad of course told me to stay put. Told me not to go down there but I thought; if I just do it once, if I make that run, I’ll prove to him that I am tough, just like him.

‘So I snuck out one night, went down into the tunnels on my own. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’d vaguely heard the route sometime and thought I could find it, somehow. It was so dark. All these noises,’ Taiwo looks around the tunnel, ‘I was still scared of the xidachane. I thought I heard one – I just ran. Panicked. Just ran and ran until I got to a small station. My mom used to tell us that if we got lost; we should just stay where we are. _Don’t move a muscle_ ,’ he stays, remembering the words, ‘we _will find_ you.’

Daryl nods even though he’s never heard of such a rule himself. The only warning he used to get before going out hunting was _; keep an eye on the stars. If you get lost, find your own damn way home_. ‘And he did? Did your dad come looking for you?’

Taiwo nods too. ‘He did. It took them three days to find me though.’

‘Three days down here?’ Daryl whispers.

‘I was scared out of my mind,’ Taiwo says, ‘but I knew he’d find me, and he did. I didn’t want to stay down here anymore. The house we use above, to hang out? I moved in there for a time. That attic was my room. There were more people who didn’t like being below ground, so it was fine, for a while.’

‘Until the attack, right? That’s what made you all move below?’

Taiwo’s eyes dart away as he nods.

Daryl knows the signs well enough to skirt the subject for now, ‘what made you go back into the tunnels?’

‘My dad – he knew we’d move down there eventually, it was just a matter of time. He didn’t want me to be scared, so he’d drill the routes with me. Every night, he’d make me recite it. He’d draw up maps of the whole system and make me trace my way out, pick an entrance and exit – he taught me how to find my way.’ He smiles. ‘Some nights we’d sit out in front of the train, in the dark, so I would learn to recognize the sounds of the system and wouldn’t be scared of the dark.

‘He taught me how to take care of xidachane. Mason taught me how to fight. And one day, we went to a station together. I had to lead us there, my dad wouldn’t point anything out. It made me less cared. First, I’d run with small groups or with my dad. Later – just me.’

Daryl wobbles on his feet. ‘Sounds like you had a nice dad. He wasn’t angry about you running off?’

Taiwo frowns. ‘Angry? No. I mean – no, he was worried. Disappointed, I guess.’

‘Oh.’ Daryl scratches at his cheek. ‘Right.’

‘I had to help clean the bathrooms for a month though, but that was it.’

The Dixon snorts. ‘My dad would have thrown me down one of those shafts into a tunnel.’

Taiwo’s gaze lingers for a moment on the scar that peeks out from under Daryl’s armor. A raised line that’ll never truly fade. ‘Yeah. I bet he would have. Come on, let’s go a bit further, there’s this spot I want to reach before lunch.’

‘Yeah – hey,’ Daryl touches his arm to make him turn back and look at him again. ‘Thanks for telling me. I know it ain’t easy sometimes – talking about ‘em, you know? So… thanks.’

‘He’s been gone a long time,’ Taiwo says, ‘and he was a good man. It’s nice to talk about him, actually. I don’t mind at all.’

‘Oh.’ Daryl shoulders his backpack higher. ‘Okay then. Good.’

‘Do you still hate to talk about yours?’

He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment. ‘Sometimes. Shane ain’t so bad anymore, but Will ‘nd Glenn? Don’t like it. Different reasons though.’ He adjusts the light and nods towards the dark tunnel. ‘Go on. Lead the way. I’m hungry.’

They sit on a small shed to eat their lunch. Legs dangle down, the soles of their feet brush over the wild flowers that are growing beneath them. It used to be a communal garden. Several smaller houses face the wilderness now, but all the windows and doors have been boarded up to make this exit from the tunnels as safe as possible. It works. There’s no walkers to spoil this Eden.

Daryl takes a mental note to bring a notepad next time. There are flowers growing here that he’s never seen before. Butterflies, bees and all kinds of insects have made their home here as well. While he’s not too font of drawing insects, he does admit that the wings of a butterfly would be a beautiful thing to be able to draw.

‘I’m glad you’re here,’ Taiwo says suddenly. ‘The letters are fine, but…. Before I went to stay at Hilltop a while, I didn’t really _get it_ , you know? How everything worked, who was who, what you were up to all day. All those names and places, they didn’t mean anything to me. Now they do.’

Daryl swallows his bite, ‘yeah. It makes it easier.’

‘Yeah. A little bit.’ Taiwo plucks at his sandwich. ‘Do you think you’ll ever go back?’

‘As long as Kiss is there, of course I’ll go back.’ Daryl narrows his eyes, ‘you want me to go back?’

Taiwo shrugs.

Daryl freezes.

Taiwo frowns, ‘what? I get it that you’re angry – you have every right to be angry, but Maggie’s your family, man. Aaron is. Jesus. I just never thought you’d be able to leave them behind like that. Maggie didn’t do it to hurt you.’

‘Oh,’ Daryl’s shoulders sag with relief. ‘No – I know that.’

‘You keep doing that,’ Taiwo points out with surprise in his eyes. ‘You keep – what is that? You thought I wanted you gone? You keep asking stuff like that and you’ll look like a deer in headlights every time. This is your place now,’ he says. ‘Until you pick another. I just don’t want you to stay here because you think that you have to now, or that you owe me something.’

‘No. No, I know I don’t.’

‘Good.’

Daryl fidgets with his half of the sandwich while Taiwo eats. ‘What made you say that? About Maggie.’

Taiwo shrugs and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I’ve seen a lot of people who just got thrown together and then stuck together. Aunts or uncles having to raise their nephews and nieces, some half-brother with a toddler that kinda looks like them, even people who just found kids on the road. It’s not always… it doesn’t always work out. It worked out for you two. That’s kind of special.’

‘I guess…’

‘I’d just hate it if you threw that away.’

‘Ain’t _me_ who _threw it away_!’

Taiwo makes a shushing noise as he glances towards the fence, but no walkers are attracted to the raised voice. ‘Don’t you think you’ve punished her enough by not even calling her?’

Daryl shakes his head, ‘it ain’t about punishing her. I’m finally doing something for myself. Something _I_ wanna do.’

‘You did that before all this. Isn’t that why you became a messenger? That’s something you wanted to do, I can’t imagine Maggie being too happy about you being on the road all the time.’

‘That’s different,’ Daryl mutters. He wrinkles his nose, ‘never mind. You wouldn’t understand.’

Taiwo lifts his eyebrows, ‘I was just thinking that it would be kind of nice to still have a mom who loves you like that, but sure – I don’t understand. No, it’s fine, let’s drop it.’ Taiwo stuffs the last bit of his sandwich into his mouth. ‘We should get going. It’s not far now, we can make it back before dinner.’ He wipes his hands on his jeans and then twists around, hands braced on the edge of the shed before dropping down into the grass.

Daryl follows him. The groan of metal on metal causes him to cringe when Taiwo shoves the cover of the manhole aside. ‘What was your mom like?’ he says quickly, before he loses his courage to ask.

Taiwo pauses, eyes on the darkness below, fingers trembling against the cover. He shifts his weight, staying low but still squaring his shoulders. ‘She was nice,’ he says, words clipped. ‘Hard-working.’

‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ Daryl says. ‘Of course you understand.’

‘Hell –maybe I don’t, but I’m trying, and I’ve been patient, but… yeah, she fucked up but you haven’t been a saint either. You ran away in the middle of the night, played dead for two weeks and all she gets is a call from Carl and Mason that you’re still alive? She deserves better than that.’ Taiwo’s expression softens, ‘It won’t mean you’ve forgiven her, but it will help her sleep at night. Give her that.’ He reaches out and touches Daryl’s cheek, fingertips no longer hesitant to touch the scar there. ‘Just think about it, okay?’

Daryl nods. ‘Yeah.’

‘Okay. Thanks. Let’s go.’

The tunnels feel even colder after they’ve sat in the sunshine for a while. Daryl shivers as he flicks his flashlight on. Their footsteps echo around them. Water drips into a puddle in the distance as Taiwo’s shadow leads him further into the tunnel system. There’s no point in trying to keep up with which turns they’ve taken, after a couple of minutes he doesn’t know anymore whether they’ve going South or North. He just follows the shadows.

There are a million thoughts running through his mind. The anger in his bones is slowly falling apart into a hundred different things. There’s guilt over not letting Maggie know that he’s okay, denying her some peace of mind after all she has suffered. There’s hurt that makes him want to run his fingernails over his bare arms, from wrist to shoulder. A hint of fear of things never being the same again.

He looks down and only then feels that his fingernails are digging into the palm of his hand. With two quick steps, he’s right beside Taiwo. In the dark, he reaches out to hold his boyfriend’s warm hand until the pain fades.

‘Here we are. Careful, there’s a tripwire.’

Daryl sees how some kind of fish wire shimmers in the darkness due to the light from his flashlight and carefully steps over it. The station is tiny. There’s just one platform, no stalls or markets or even places to sleep. It looks abandoned. Graffiti covers the walls but it looks old and weathered.

‘This is it?’ Daryl asks as he follows Taiwo up onto the platform. There’s a staircase leading up to the ground level, but there are no heavy doors, no guards – there’s nothing at all.

‘Almost.’ Taiwo laughs at the look on Daryl’s face. ‘You’ve never met Georgette. She’s… different. You’ll see.’

Blinking against the sunshine, Daryl walks up the staircase and then looks around. It’s almost as if they’ve left the city. The streets are wider here, the houses bigger, there are gardens and trees lining the streets. For a split second, it even looks like the apocalypse never happened here. There are no walkers in sight, no rotting corpses on the streets, no blood or trash or broken glass anywhere.

The cars, neatly parked in their white outlines, are starting to rust away though. Most tires have deflated over the years, animals have built nests in nooks and crannies. When he looks a bit closer, he sees that all the windows have been removed or smashed, in every car and every house that he can see.

‘I’ve already called us in, she knows we’re coming over,’ Taiwo says as he crosses the street.

‘Is it just her out here?’ Daryl follows him. ‘I thought you said she were old.’

‘She is. It’s not just her, she has a couple of apprentices.’

‘Right.’ The Dixon looks over his shoulder at the empty streets. ‘Feels like you’re leading me to some place quiet where you’ll make me dig my own fucking grave, man. The fuck.’

Taiwo snorts. ‘Sounds like a whole lot of trouble. I would have just left you in the tunnels.’

‘We’re going back _above_ ground,’ Daryl mutters.

His boyfriend laughs but doesn’t answer. They round a corner and Daryl suddenly knows exactly where they are going. There’s a quaint little house right between two ordinary townhouses. A small pathway leads through flowerbeds to come up to the white front door. There’s no porch, no grand lawn, no place to park a car. The walls are still white, it almost looks recently painted, and the roof is a deep red that shines due to the sun.

They hop over a low fence to walk up to the front door. Daryl holds his hand out and the flowers touch his palms. The doorbell is rung and the sound can be heard in all this silence.

A woman opens the door. ‘Hello, Taiwo. It’s good to see you again.’

‘You too, Asha. This is Daryl, from Alexandria.’

The woman waves them inside and smiles at the youngest Dixon, ‘we’ve heard a lot about you. Welcome.’

‘Err, thanks,’ Daryl awkwardly wipes his feet on the mat before he walks into the house. It’s small, much smaller than any house in Alexandria. There’s a mirror on the wall, shoes neatly lined up at the end, coats on a rack nearby. He pushes the only door open and steps into a living room. He’s been in many houses and loves to fantasize about the people who used to live there. This exactly what he imagined an elderly grandmother’s living room would be like.

‘Would you like some tea?’

Daryl doesn’t answer but looks around with wide eyes.

‘Please,’ Taiwo says with a nod, ‘that’d be great.’ The radio on his belt crackles before his call sign comes on. He grabs it immediately. ‘Sorry. Sorry.’

‘Georgette wouldn’t like that,’ Asha warns with a stern look at the device. ‘Take it outside.’

Daryl hardly notices how Taiwo slips outside to call in. He walks around the cozy living room. There’s a rug on the floor, flowers in vases, a couch that doesn’t have any strange stains on it. The floorboards gleam, and he’s surprised to see that even the television doesn’t have any dust on it. There’s a remote control on the armrest.

With a frown, he walks over the screen. He reaches out and pushes the power button.

There’s a soft clicking-noise as the screen suddenly goes from black to gray. A soft zooming noise comes from the small speakers.

‘There’s still nothing on it, I’m afraid,’ Asha says. ‘A couple of people were making wild plans about starting a channel, most don’t see the point. The radio functions fine, hardly anyone owns a television these days. A working one, that is.’

‘Sorry,’ Daryl shuts it off again. ‘I just – you have electricity?’

‘A generator, in the cellar. You look surprised to find us here,’ Asha says with a smile when she puts three steaming cups of tea on the table and then sits down on the sofa. ‘We’re not too far from a station – they send us provisions and patrol the streets.’

‘Why’re you living out here, instead of in the perimeter of the station?’

‘Georgette is stubborn. She was born in this house,’ Asha says. ‘She intends to die here.’

Daryl frowns as he looks around. He doesn’t remember much about the house he was raised in, but he remembers the trailer and can’t imagine a worse place to die in. He wonders how happy one’s childhood and life must have been, to stay in one place, even after the world has ended. There are pictures in silver frames on the mantelpiece but he fears he might be prying too much if he takes a closer look.

Instead, he sits down on the couch and takes his cup of tea in his hands. ‘Thank you. Are you one of the apprentices?’

Asha shrugs. ‘Sometimes, though Georgette likes to call me hopeless when it comes to stitching. She still thinks I’d like to learn, bless her heart.’ She smiles when she sees Daryl’s confusion. ‘There are apprentices who come and learn the craft, but I’m always here. An elderly woman, living on her own, with the dead walking? She wouldn’t have survived long.’

‘You’re a guard,’ Daryl says.

‘Don’t tell her that. The word reminds her of a prison.’ Asha takes a sip of her own tea, ‘Still, she lives in this house, with its clean streets and swept sidewalks, unbothered by that. Maybe she’s gotten too old to see the invisible walls.’

‘It sounds like a lot of trouble to keep one person safe.’

‘A lot of people would agree with that.’

Daryl narrows his eyes. ‘Then why do it? Why not force her to stay at a station?’

‘My mother had to move to an elderly home, before the downfall. She was homesick. I think that might have killed her, in the end,’ Asha says. ‘We can do this for her, so we will. It probably doesn’t hurt that the leader of our station likes to visit his mother in his old childhood home.’

Taiwo comes back inside, his hand still lingering on the radio. There’s a troubled look on his face, eyes darting to the steaming cups on the table. ‘Thanks, Asha. Is it okay if I head down first? The tea will be cool by the time she’ll let me out of that cellar.’

‘Sure,’ Asha says with a laugh. She gets up as well. ‘I’m going to do my rounds, so I might not be here when you get back. Safe travels.’

‘You be careful,’ Taiwo answers. ‘Come on, Daryl, we need to go outside.’

Daryl follows him after thanking Asha for the tea. ‘Who radioed you?’

‘Oh – Mason, he was just checking in to see if we’d arrived safely.’

‘Right.’

‘He does that,’ Taiwo says as he heads over to the shed at the back of the garden. It’s not filled with a lawnmower, or any sort of gardening tools. Instead, there’s a staircase leading down to a cellar that’s illuminated by artificial light. The familiar smell of leather and hides engulf Daryl as he descends. There’s a strange noise coming from somewhere in the cellar. He can’t see very far even when his feet hit the concrete floor, because there are lines with drying hides and skins everywhere. Some wet with tanning agents, others already cut up and dry, ready to be made into Washington armor.

Sets of it are lined along the walls. Various shades and designs. He spots one that looks like the one he’s wearing and he wonders whether Taiwo picked it out from this line, or whether she’d designed it for him first. It doesn’t really matter. His already is unique due to the stained design of the wings on his back, of course

‘There you are!’ the strange noise stops when a voice comes from the back of the cellar. The lines with skins swings gently and suddenly an elderly woman comes shuffling towards them. Smaller than either one of the teenagers, glasses perched on her nose, silver hair in a messy bun on top of her head. Hands wrinkled, clothes meticulous; a black skirt and blouse, a pearl necklace around her neck. ‘Taiwo,’ she reaches for the boy and folds his hands in hers, ‘what took you so long?’

‘You only called in two days ago,’ Taiwo says with a scoff and laugh, ‘I need to run, I can’t fly!’

‘Two days? Oh. Good,’ Georgette reaches up to caresses his cheek. ‘You look happy.’

Taiwo turns his head to kiss the palm of her hand. ‘I am. Look who I brought; a happy customer!’

‘A happy -? Oh! Oh, hello,’ she turns towards Daryl. ‘Oh, yes – the black armor,’ she reaches out to touch his chest, ‘I remember. With the – ah yes,’ she smiles when Daryl turns and shows the angel wings on his back, ‘the wings. Yes.’ She glances at Taiwo.

‘Daryl,’ Taiwo reminds her, ‘his name is Daryl. He’s from Alexandria.’

‘Oh – yes. Daryl.’ Then she frowns, ‘Alexandria? I don’t… I don’t remember…’

‘It’s a new station,’ Taiwo says as he puts a hand on her shoulder, ‘you can’t remember, it’s brand new. Okay? Come, show me what you’re working on.’

Daryl follows the two to the back of the cellar, where big tables are covered with heaps of cut up leather of various colors. There are four sewing machines, only one which seems to be in use at the moment.

‘Where are your apprentices?’ Taiwo asks as he inspects a chest piece.

‘It’s Sunday,’ Georgette says as she sits down on a chair. ‘A day of rest.’

‘But here you are.’

She smiles, eyes twinkling, ‘I like working alone. They ask too many questions.’

Taiwo laughs. ‘You’re terrible. You shouldn’t be working so hard at your age.’

She scoffs and swats at him with a brittle hand. ‘You sit down. Tell me about the world.’

Daryl quietly sits down on one of the tables and listens to how Taiwo tells her stories from the stations. Nothing about the outside world, nothing about the people who’d died on that one run that had gone wrong, nothing about the whisperers. Funny stories about Amaka, how Mason is doing, that the leader of the southern stations are doing well. Small talk about the weather, about the hides the hunters brought her last, rumors that make her giggles and swat at him again.

Daryl doesn’t say much. When he does, Georgette seems confused by his presence, like she’d forgotten he was even there. So he stays silent but thanks her when they leave. Taiwo with a smile on his face and a bag filled with orders on his back.

They leave her. She has work to do, or so she claims.

‘She’s getting old,’ Taiwo says as they walk back to the house and drink their cold tea before heading out again. ‘She’s starting to forget things. Gets confused all the time. The doctor says it’s best to ignore it. It makes her sad when she realizes she’s starting to forget stuff.’

‘Hmm,’ Daryl puts his hands in his pockets, ‘I used to think that would be pretty neat – if you could forget some memories. Ain’t so sweet if you can’t choose which you can forget, I suppose.’

‘No, not at all. Asha takes good care of her though, and there’s a whole team stationed around that house at all times so she’s safe.’

‘Asha said Georgette’s the mother of one the leaders?’

‘Yeah. She used to make special shoes, like – leather shoes for people who couldn’t buy them in the shops. All kinds of people,’ Taiwo says when Daryl frowns, ‘really tall people – they’d need a big size. People with different sizes feet. Or people who’d had an accident and something was wrong, you know? She made custom leather shoes. The skill came in handy.’

‘Who thought of making the armor?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Taiwo admits. ‘She was already working on it when the stations connected.’ They head back down the staircase to head into the tunnels. Taiwo grabs him by the shoulder just in time, ‘the wire, remember? Careful, or we’ll bring down Asha upon us. She makes good tea, but her shot is even better. Let’s go.’

‘I can’t believe you do this every time,’ Daryl says when they finally make it back, just in time for dinner. He feels drained from walking around in the dark, all his senses heightened while trying to pinpoint where faint snarls of walkers were coming from even though Taiwo had already dismissed them as being too far away to form any sort of threat. ‘And this one was close by? That’s crazy.’

‘Well, usually I run, and I don’t have a stumbling blind bat following me.’

‘Oh haha,’ Daryl rolls his eyes but still laughs. They climb up the small platform that runs along the train, hands touching the cold metal in fond greeting before Daryl pulls the door to the twin’s room open. ‘Hey, we’re back.’

Felix is sitting on the edge of the bed and looks relieved to see them. ‘Hey. Did you just come in? You didn’t go to the main hall, right?’

Daryl frowns, ‘no. Why?’

Felix eyes grow wide before he hurriedly looks down and inspects his nails. ‘No reason.’

Taiwo sighs and puts his bag down on the floor. ‘Mason radioed to check in on us because he wanted to know at what time we’d be back. There’s someone waiting for you in the main hall, Daryl.’

The Dixon looks at him. ‘What?’

‘You have a visitor.’


	11. find your way...

It’s quite busy in the main hall. People have just returned from their various shifts all over the station and are now stopping by the market place to see what new goods are being sold. Children run around, excited that their school day is over. Parents try to herd them towards the showers or kitchen but gleaming new objects from runners prove to be far more interesting.

Daryl watches the chaos from the back platform, near the train. It’s easy to spot his visitor. At first it had annoyed him that Taiwo hadn’t been willing to come along, but now he sort of understands. Maybe if it had been Maggie who’d come to see him, he would have needed someone to keep him in line, to make him swallow his hurtful words before he could utter them and cool his temper, but there’s no real danger of that happening now.

Daryl smiles and starts to head over. The visitor seems slightly flustered by how busy the station is, not quite familiar enough with the lay-out to understand the flow of the community, and Daryl knows that the sheer amount of children boggles their mind. All of it makes it easy to sneak up on them. Silently, he reaches for the left pocket of the coat to try and take the extra clip that’s always there.

Gloved fingers grab hold of his wrist and squeeze so hard that it makes him wince.

‘Mercy,’ Daryl laughs. ‘I would have given it back.’

Paul’s eyes are wide when he turns around to face him. ‘Daryl.’ For a moment, he seems unsure of what to do. He rocks forward but seems to change his mind, arms stiff even though the hand immediately slackens and let’s go of him. The wide eyes seem to scan him quickly, gaze flicking up and down.

With a grin, Daryl has mercy on him by surging forward and hugging the man tightly. ‘Hey.’

Paul’s reaction is instant, his arms circle around the Dixon’s waist, holding him close and the tension leaves his body. ‘Daryl,’ he repeats, voice soft and filled with something akin to wonder, ‘hey. God… I – how are you? How have you been?’

‘Good,’ Daryl steps back and puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans, wobbling on the balls of his feet for a moment. ‘Better.’

‘Yeah,’ Paul’s gaze searches his face, ‘you look it, too.’

‘Thanks.’ The familiar blush flares up as the younger man inspects his boots before glancing around him. ‘I didn’t know you were coming. What brings you here?’

For a moment, Paul doesn’t say anything. Then he shakes his head slightly and laughs, seemingly to himself. ‘We came back from a scavenging trip and ran into a messenger from the Kingdom. He needed to get to Washington.’ Paul ducks his head so the long hair hides most of his face, ‘he didn’t need much convincing to pass the message to me and let me deliver it.’

‘That so?’

‘Maggie won’t be happy,’ Paul admits. ‘She kind of forbade me – or anyone, actually, to come and see you. You’ve made it very clear you didn’t want any contact – I know that, I just… I’m sorry. I had to.’ He presses his lips into a thin line before saying, ‘no, I wanted to. I’m sorry.’

Daryl sits down on the table again. ‘I ain’t mad.’

Relief makes Paul lift his head. ‘Good. I’m glad. Then it’s just Maggie who will tie me to the highest tree. She wants to see you so badly. She’s been so worried. Daryl, she’s so sorry.’

Daryl gnaws on the nail of his left thumb before hopping off the table again. ‘Hey, have you signed in with Mason yet? We can head over to the kitchen, I don’t have too many points left but visitors eat for free so I bet they’ll give us something good.’ He starts to head over to the area. ‘It’s too bad Vera isn’t working right now. She keeps finding ways to convince the chef that we desperately need some fries. Couple of days ago we had _soup_ with frie-‘

‘Daryl.’

He almost can’t bear to turn around but grits his teeth together to square his jaw when he does.

‘She is so sorry.’

‘Good.’

Paul looks hurt and torn. ‘Daryl, please. She’s barely sleeping, she’s not eating, sh-‘

‘I had to remove our allies’ heads from bloody pikes after vultures had eaten their eyes, ears ‘nd noses. They got my horse killed. I had to watch how that monster pulled my brother’s face off of his skull, put it up to dry and then wore it. They murdered Rick and made me bring a leaking bag back to Michonne,’ Daryl says. ‘Don’t talk to me about _not being able to sleep at night_.’

‘If you know what that’s like, why would you wish it on her?’

‘I don’t _wish_ it on her, but you have to carry what you cause.’

Paul flinches.

‘This weren’t on me.’

‘She tried to do what’s best.’

‘The greater good,’ Daryl says with a nod, ‘yeah I know. Guess I just got sick and tired of risking my own hide for something I ain’t ever part of. C’mon,’ he cocks his head to the side, ‘I were happy you’re here. Don’t ruin it.’

Paul looks like he has something else to say still, but he swallows his words. A resigned look pushes the concern aside for now. ‘Fine. And yes, I did let Mason know I’d arrived. But,’ he says with one raised eyebrow, the look now even slightly smug, ‘I didn’t arrive alone. I brought someone with me.’ Just as dread starts to pool in Daryl’s stomach, Paul smirks, ‘she’s upstairs.’

Ten minutes later, Daryl lets his hand glide over the light coat while Eshu eyes him warily. She snorts, steps restlessly back and forth and then pushes against his shoulder with her nose. ‘Easy,’ he mutters before guiding her head closer and kissing it. ‘Hey girl, you remember me? Nah, but that’s okay. We’ll get to know each other real well, real soon. We got time, huh? Yeah, we got time.’ His hand lingers on her coat as he glances at the door. ‘Thanks for bringing her here.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Paul says. ‘I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but at least this one doesn’t try to take a bite out of me every chance she gets. It makes everything a whole lot easier.’

‘Wait until she loves me ‘nd you’re being an ass again,’ Daryl says. He walks over and closes the lower part of the door. ‘Are you staying a while?’

‘Just tonight.’

‘Mason won’t mind you staying longer.’

Paul’s lips curl into a soft smile. ‘There’s work to be done. With Alexandria gone, the trade deals have to be renegotiated. For a moment, I thought Alexandria would rejoin us after they took you in.’

‘Took me in?’ Daryl snorts and adjusts the baseball cap. ‘Sure. Let’s fucking call it that.’

Paul frowns.

The Dixon sighs. ‘Was weird seeing Michonne again, after… y’know. She were nice to me though, in the end. Probably ‘cause I were leaving,’ he tries to pass it off as a joke but it falls flat. He scratches at his nose. ‘You’re really takin’ off tomorrow?’

‘Yes. I just wanted to see how you were doing.’

‘I wouldn’t mind you lookin’ a bit longer.’

Paul snorts and shakes his head.

Daryl smiles and knocks their shoulders together. ‘C’mon, we’ll grab something to eat and I can give you the grand tour of the closet that’s my room. How’s Kiss doing?’

‘He’s a bit crabby. Maggie’s not her normal self – he knows something is wrong.’

Daryl rolls his eyes. ‘And his big brother left and he misses me so much. Fuck you, man. Kid’s probably just getting a bunch of teeth or something, ain’t got nothing to do with me ‘nd Maggie if that kid’s crabby. Is that the real reason you left Hilltop? A crabby baby? I thought you’d gotten over your fear of them, man.’

‘Fear? I was never scared of him!’

Daryl laughs. ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night.’

Later that night, Daryl is shaking his hands dry on the landing that leads to the bathrooms while he looks down at the platform. Most of the stalls have been packed up, but there are still people lingering around the kitchen area. The fires in the ovens have gone out, even the lights above them are powering down now that it’s getting late. A couple of guards hang around before the start of their nightshift.

Their own little group is still sitting at the picnic tables. Amaka is leafing through the book with sign language with Hakeem to try and pick some more words up. Felix and Vera are playing a strange game of cards. The rules never make any sense and Vera always wins somehow but Felix doesn’t seem to notice that he’s being played. On a table nearby, Paul and Taiwo sit next to each other.

Paul has his hair down so Daryl can’t see his expression from this angle, but Taiwo looks tired and troubled. He’s talking with slow gestures that don’t make any sense until he throws his hands up. Shoulders curled in, head down.

Paul reaches out to grab hold of his shoulder, leaning in closer and shaking the younger man’s shoulder gently.

With a sigh, Daryl makes his way downstairs and over to them. Their voices are lowered but the quiet of the station seems to amplify them anyway. He takes care to not mask his footsteps so they’ll hear him coming. As he’d suspected, they both fall silent as he approaches.

Daryl can’t help but smile when Taiwo looks a bit guilty. ‘I’m going to hit the hay,’ he aims a light kick at Paul’s foot. ‘Don’t go sneaking off. I’ll escort you to the border. See you tomorrow.’

‘Yeah. Good night, Daryl.’

It doesn’t surprise him that about an hour later, Taiwo slips into his bedroom. He’s barely visible in the dark, no glimmers of his dao when it’s put down on the floor, just the rustling of his clothes as he removes his armor and shoes and throws his shirt down somewhere. He slips into the bed, shivering slightly when his skin hits the cold sheets.

‘Done with the gossip session?’ Daryl asks but he makes sure his voice is light with amusement.

‘He worries about you,’ Taiwo murmurs as he reaches out and pulls Daryl closer by his waist, ‘so do I.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Most of the time,’ Taiwo agrees. ‘You know what they worry about. Last time you were upset, you tried to bait a walker to nibble on your fingers on that station. I’ve seen the marks,’ he says when his hand ghosts over the inside of Daryl’s thigh where the scars are. ‘He needed some peace of mind. Besides, it’s kind of nice to talk to him. He’s very calm.’

Daryl frowns, ‘what do you mean? He’s calm?’

‘Sometimes I want to tie you to a chair and _make_ you call Maggie. It’s driving me nuts that you’re ignoring her. He said it wouldn’t go over well. That I should just wait it out.’

‘That first sentence started out with so much promise,’ Daryl muses.

Taiwo punches his stomach lightly.

He laughs. ‘But seriously? Thanks for not pushing it. You said your piece on it and I’ll think about it. That’s all I’ll promise.’

‘It’s a good start,’ Taiwo says with a small shrug. He presses a kiss to the Dixon’s shoulder. ‘G’night.’

They walk to make their time together last. The hooves of their horses click on the asphalt of the city. Birds take flight as they pass from where they’d been feasting on the corpses of walkers that got stuck in fences or underneath rubble. There had been a summer storm a while ago which caused some buildings to lose parts of their walls or roofs to cave in.

Most streets are clear of stray walkers. Now that he’s living at Washington, he starts to understand how Mason keeps track of the small hordes and how they’ll lead them around the perimeter. He doesn’t like the concept, it reminds him too much of the whisperers, and he would much rather see the hordes wasted and have people guard the border but at least he understands now. Every station is well hidden, an abandoned city crawling with walkers gets passed by quicker by anyone roaming out there.

‘You have a good thing going here,’ Paul says suddenly. He’s walking along his spotted horse, head down but hair up so Daryl can still see half of his expression when he glances over. ‘I never thought you’d be living in a city. Underground.’

‘Yeah, me neither,’ Daryl says with a huff of laughter. ‘I fucking hate those tunnels, but it’s good people. They know the stories and people stare whenever I arrive but all that shit fades, y’know? They got their own legends running those tunnels, what the hell do they care about that asshole from Alexandria. It’s nice. Nobody gives a shit about me.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘No – I just mean… It’s just different here. Ain’t nothing special, is what I mean.’

‘I know at least one person who would strongly disagree,’ Paul says with a smile.

Daryl nods and tightens his hold on Eshu’s reigns, ‘yeah. He’s been great.’

‘I came out here hoping I could talk you into coming back with me,’ Paul admits, ‘but I think it might be best if you’d stay a while longer. If that’s what you want.’

‘Yeah, I ain’t going back to Hilltop right now. Ain’t going back for a while, but it was nice seeing you. You should stop by more often, if you get the chance.’

‘What about Maggie? She’d love to come and-’

‘ _No_.’

Paul winces at the sharp tone but looks at the younger man. ‘Why can I stop by, but not Maggie?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘You didn’t know about the deal.’

Paul stops walking. They’re standing on the edge of the city in front of sprawling grasslands. It’s getting late, they’d been slow to get going this morning and the walk over here took a while. He’ll have to ride in the dark for the last part of his journey, if he plans to go straight to Hilltop. ‘No. I didn’t know.’

Daryl smiles, ‘that’s the difference. Hey, stop by one of the safe houses tonight, okay? Or you can stay one more day! You could leave tomorrow and-‘

‘I wouldn’t have done anything different,’ Paul cuts him off, ‘if I had known. I wouldn’t have told you about the deal either.’

Blood suddenly makes Daryl’s mouth taste like metal. He relaxes his jaw so the inside of his cheek isn’t pinched between his teeth anymore. It’s hard to swallow. He wants to gag but manages to keep his composure. ‘See you soon, Paul.’

‘You would have died out there, if it wasn’t for the deal.’

‘Let Mason know when you’ve arrived home safely. He’ll pass the message on. Give Hershel a kiss from me, if you’re feeling brave enough,’ Daryl spits the blood onto the asphalt before hoisting himself up into his saddle.

‘You can’t _do_ this!’ Paul says, voice shriller now. ‘After everything we’ve been through, this is the hill you’ll die on? She did what she thought was best! If she made a mistake…. She’s _sorry_ , Daryl. What does she have to do to get you to even _talk_ to her?’

‘ _Wait_ ,’ Daryl bites out. ‘You think I don’t know she’s sorry? That she did what she thought was right? That she had the best intentions for her people? This ain’t about her, man. It ain’t gonna be on your terms no more.’ He shifts and holds the reigns tightly while Eshu steps back and forth nervously at his angry tone. ‘Give me some room to fucking _breathe_ , man.’

‘It’s been _weeks_.’

‘And it’s gonna be months if you keep this up,’ Daryl snaps. ‘Maggie’s still my mom, that ain’t ever gonna change. Merle used to say we got special hearts, us Dixon’s. Itty-bitty ones, can only fit a few people. Once you’re in, you’re in forever. Stop pushing. She in trouble? Oh I’ll come running, but stop fucking pushing all my buttons to make me snap.’

Paul shakes his head, ‘I didn’t mean-‘

‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ Daryl says with a stiff nod. ‘I don’t care why you wouldn’t have told me about the deal. Didn’t happen. Ain’t gonna worry about some fictional bullshit when this is the world we live in. You don’t trust me? You think I would have broken the deal, ran after Beta, got killed? Fine. That’s fine. It didn’t happen. It don’t matter none. Stop tryin’ to bait me into something.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah, me too.’ Daryl glances up at the sky. ‘Best get going, you’re losing sunlight.’

Paul hesitates but then gets onto his horse. ‘It was good seeing you.’

‘Sure.’ Daryl tugs at the reigns and Eshu makes a tight turn, ‘tell Maggie I’m good. And don’t go renting out my room, okay? If you think I’m leavin’ them for good, you’re fucking crazy.’

‘We’re just never sure what you’re going to do.’

‘That’s because none of you ever listen. See you soon, Paul.’ The heels of his boots barely dig into Eshu’s side before she jumps forward, eager despite the foreign concrete under her feet. He’s glad that they can cut through lawns and parks on their way back to the station. The sun is out and even though Paul’s visit didn’t end how he’d wanted it to, he feels pretty good.

A month later, he’s lounging on Taiwo’s bed with a book. He’d gotten it with some left-over points and despite Felix’s merciless teasing about the cowboy on the cover, he rather likes the story. It’s slow going, he hasn’t read such a long text in a while, but that’s all right. He’s got plenty of time.

Daryl’s eyebrows shoot up when swift footsteps suddenly head over to the heavy door.

‘TaiTai, I need you to cover for –‘ Mason stops when he spots the Dixon on the bed. ‘Oh – Daryl. I saw that the light on his side was on, sorry. Do you know where Taiwo is?’

‘Still at that station near Georgette. It’s his day off, he said he wanted to see some friends who live there after getting those orders that were ready to be picked up. He’ll be back before lights-out though.’

Mason curses under his breath as he looks down at some papers he’s holding. ‘Amaka’s still out too? Shit.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, Vince can go by himself,’ Mason murmurs as he scribbles something down. ‘He’s a big boy. Oh,’ he says when Daryl closes his books and sits up, ‘Anna was supposed to go with him, but she’s not feeling well. The Kingdom requested those batteries last week and … turns out they need them quicker than anticipated.’

Daryl frowns. ‘What do they need batteries for?’

‘It’s not the batteries themselves – it’s the power. They don’t seem to be able to charge them themselves anymore. It’s a good thing Hakeem and Yvette got that turbine running,’ Mason’s voice trails off as he reads another form. ‘I’d rather not send anyone out alone – maybe Ezekiel can wait. Their requests keep piling up anyway, we can’t keep sending carts out there every week.’

‘You don’t got enough men?’ Daryl asks.

‘I’m not getting enough in return,’ Mason says.

‘From the Kingdom?’

Mason nods. ‘If I wanted shriveled up pomegranates, I would have asked White house station. Have you been to the station with the greenhouses yet?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Oh – they supply every station with fresh food. White house station is convinced that that leader will pull the plug one day and leave us hanging. So they’ve started up their own greenhouse – I’ve never seen more pathetic tomatoes in all my life. A waste of resources, if you ask me.’

Daryl scratches at his cheek. ‘Aren’t you ever scared that they’ll cut you off?’

Mason looks up from his papers. ‘No. The leader is a fine woman, who believes she can rebuild Washington. Imagine what that would mean; the capitol rising from the ashes, a shining beacon, a sanctuary for survivors. It’s a nice vision,’ Mason says with a little smile, ‘which is going to need soldiers to guard the borders for it to work. She lets us starve? That’s more than half of her fighting force gone. She wouldn’t though. Like I said, she’s a fine woman.’

‘The other guy is just a suspicious freak?’

Mason snorts. ‘Something like that. It’s what you get from living at that station, I guess. With neighbors like that, I wouldn’t ever feel safe either.’ He ticks something off on a paper, ‘let me know when Tai’s back, all right? I need to talk to him about that station.’

Daryl gets up, ‘I can go.’

‘To the station?’

‘To the Kingdom,’ Daryl clarifies. ‘I can go with Vince.’

The older man looks doubtful. ‘Are you sure? You really don’t have to, and I’m not sending you over with a nice message. Ezekiel better start paying up, or I’m cutting him off. We’ve done enough charity as is, I’m sorry.’

‘I’ve delivered worse messages,’ Daryl says as he reaches under the bed to grab his crossbow. ‘Eshu needs new shoes anyway so we might as well get those fitted while we’re there. It’s no problem,’ he assures the man when he opens his mouth. ‘I’ll leave a message for Tai. Can I radio him tonight?’

‘Of course,’ Mason says as he follows the younger man out onto the platform.

‘Thanks. I’m not on the roster tomorrow so you won’t have to pull someone to cover my shift, though I’m always kind of tagging along anyway. I’m pulling my own weight but not much more than that. It’s really different hunting out here,’ Daryl comments as he scrunches up his nose. ‘I’m glad I can help out with this.’

Mason smiles, ‘well, I certainly haven’t had any complaints from the guys, so you must be doing fine out there.’

‘Haven’t had any complaints since that one time Wayne walked in on me ‘nd Tai, you mean. Goddamn, he acted like he caught us at it. He barged into my bedroom, what was he expecting to find at four in the morning? He’s the one who read the roster wrong anyway, I wasn’t even supposed to be working.’

Mason laughs, ‘since that one,’ he agrees. With a short whistle and gesture, he summons Vince from where he’d been talking to his wife at one of the stalls. ‘Dixon is coming with you, I don’t want you out there on your own.’

Vince’s eyebrows shoot up for a second but he nods and throws Daryl a smile. ‘You’ve got a radio?’

Daryl taps on his packs, ‘got it all. Ready to go.’

‘Good, let’s go.’

The small carriage creaks when they get out on the road. It only has two wheels and isn’t meant for big hauls, which makes it a lot faster than the big carts they’d used for the fair. Three big industrial batteries are stacked on the side with Vince squeezed in the seat next to them. The man used to live in the city and loves to tell the Dixon all about life before the turn. Adventures on the metro, how he used to work as a janitor at a law firm which had been far less boring than it sounds, where the best kebab place used to be.

Daryl’s laughing by the time they cross the border and he pulls his radio out to announce their arrival. ‘Little prince crossing the northern border. Arrival in about an hour, two people, over.’

There’s a short silence on the line.

‘Repeat that call sign, please?’

Vince laughs, ‘yeah, they haven’t heard that one in a while.’

‘Little prince,’ Daryl says and laughs too when Vince rolls his eyes when there’s a lot of static and relayed messages on the line suddenly. ‘Just open the fuckin’ gate in an hour!’

That the message had come through just fine, is proven by the fact that Ezekiel is waiting for them by the gate when they arrive. Long, dark coat, graying dreads and that ever-present smile on his face. He spreads his arms wide in greeting.

‘Welcome back to the Kingdom, little prince!’

‘Ezekiel!’ Despite everything, Daryl feels excitement tingling in his bones as he jumps down from Eshu’s back to greet the king. He walks over and doesn’t hesitate to initiate a tight hug. ‘Hey, man!’

The king pulls back but keeps him close, one hand holding onto the broad shoulder, fingers digging in. There are lines in his face that Daryl has never seen before. A heaviness in the eyes. He seems moved as his gaze roams over the younger man’s face. ‘It’s been too long,’ he says.

Daryl wonders whether it’s the scar that bothers the man. They haven’t seen each other in months, seasons. It’s easy to hear stories but it’s hard to see them etched in the skin of those you love, he knows. ‘It has been,’ he agrees as he folds his hand over Ezekiel’s, squeezing it tightly.

‘A messenger came rushing to share the news of your swift arrival,’ the king says. ‘I almost didn’t dare believe him.’

Daryl narrows his eyes, ‘what’s wrong?’

Ezekiel smiles at him but it’s too fragile. He let’s go of Daryl and moves aside, ‘and you’ve brought a common friend! Welcome back to the Kingdom, Vince.’

‘Thank you, your majesty. We’ve got those batteries you’ve requested, but Mason isn’t too happy about it all.’ Vince looks a bit guilty. ‘Can I take them to the usual place?’

‘I would be greatly appreciative if you would,’ Ezekiel says with a hand over his heart. ‘And I am grateful.’

‘I am too,’ Daryl says, ‘for this little lady.’ He pats Eshu on her neck, ‘I’ll go and get her settled. See you at court?’

The king bows his head. ‘You’re welcome, and take your time to get reacquainted. Friends of yours are eager to welcome you back.’ He turns and walks away to follow Vince.

It doesn’t take Daryl very long to get Eshu settled. Julia isn’t at the stables, but the people there are glad to see the horse back and doing so well. They’re eager to help and shoo him out to spend some time with her, which makes him laugh and claim that he’s a visitor and that they should be nice to him. It secretly pleases him that they pay him no mind.

He takes a detour to drop his pack off in his room. There are stains on the walls from where moisture is seeping into the stone. Windows all along the north side of the building are broken and never replaced or boarded up. The ones in his room are still intact but dirty. One desk has collapsed and the wood looks rotten.

With a frown, he puts the backpack by his bed. Dust billows up when he moves his blankets to sit down on the mattress. Though most people are impressed by the fact that he can always tell whether Maggie, Paul, Aaron, Carl or Michonne is about to round the corner by their footsteps, guessing his visitor here is too easy.

‘Hey Jayla,’ he says when the familiar sound of her crutches stops just inside of his room. He gets up and inspects the wall across from him. There’s a crack running right through it. ‘What happened to this place?’

‘An hour notice is not enough, _little prince_. You can’t expect everyone to drop what they’re doing to come out here and clean your room.’ She walks over to him. ‘How are you doing? We’ve been worried about you.’

‘Fine,’ he gives her a hug, ‘How are you?’

‘In need of a chair.’

He rolls his eyes but grabs one from behind the desk and pushes it over to her.

‘Thank you.’ She puts the crutches down and looks at him with narrows eyes. ‘It’s not as bad as Julia said it was. Put your hair back a bit?’

‘Good lord,’ he adjusts his baseball cap so it keeps the hair out of his face. ‘ain’t one for subtlety, are ya?’

‘You’d hate that even more,’ Jayla says with a laugh. ‘I hate it when people try to be polite about those kinds of things. They’ll try very hard not to look at my obviously missing leg, or they’ll act really surprised when I pass on playing hopscotch with the kids. It’s stupid. There’s a scar on your face. Am I supposed to ignore that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Daryl says as he sits down on a desk. ‘I kind of like it when people pretend it ain’t there. Like, you’re not going to be a dick about it, but people lookin’ like that? Don’t like it.’

‘Hurts your feelings?’ Jayla sticks out her bottom lip. ‘Is the most desired prince in the Kingdom scared to lose his crown? Bet some people are staring because they think it makes you look even hotter.’

He smirks.

‘Not me though, but you’ve always been ugly to me. The scar doesn’t make that worse or better.’

‘Right,’ he laughs. ‘Thanks. How’s the enemy?’

‘ _Kevin_ is doing great, thank you.’

He gives her a pointed look. ‘I’m so happy to hear it...’

She laughs and shakes her head. ‘You’re an idiot, Daryl Dixon.’

‘Only sometimes,’ he says softly as he looks around the room again. ‘but seriously, Jay, what the hell has happened to this place? All the windows are gone, there’s fucking mold on the walls.’

‘Don’t think it’s just this place,’ Jayla warns. ‘It might be worse because it’s just you living out here, but it’s every building. Winter was hard out here. Washington helped some but….’ She shrugs, ‘you’ll have to talk to the king. He tries not to let too much information slip through the cracks. He doesn’t want his people to worry.’

‘Right. What’s with the batteries? You had a grid up and running.’

‘A generator broke, the wiring is shotty, power goes in and out. The batteries are back-up for the medical bay. They don’t last very long but it’s something.’ She sighs, ‘but like I said; you’d have to ask the king.’

Daryl gets up and puts his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. ‘Okay. I should get going, I told him I’d meet him where he holds court.’

‘Okay,’ Jayla grabs his hand before he pulls it back, ‘it’s no longer in the great hall though. The pipes broke. It took too much fuel to heat it during the winter and some parts of the roof started to go in spring, so… he’ll be in the dining hall.’

‘Thanks Jay.’

‘Of course,’ she grabs her crutches and stands up. ‘How long are you staying?’

‘As long as it takes me to figure out what the hell is going on here.’


	12. home.

* * *

The cracks are starting to show in every building he passes on his way to the dining hall. Windows of the apartments are boarded up, some doors are hanging askew, the railing of the stairs has come down, leaving crumbling holes in the walls. The gutter of another building has partially come down, hanging on by a couple of screws.

The gazebo has cracked floorboards. He needs to be careful about where he puts his weight, feet searching for the beams underneath the floor so he can pass safely. It won’t be long before someone pays no mind and goes through them, he thinks.

The courtyard is still busy. There’s green everywhere but fewer people tending to the crops than he’d expected. A couple steps further, he spots a group standing around the old water pump. One of them is kneeling in front of it, another hands her some tools while the rest argues and bickers in a circle.

Daryl frowns but moves on to the main building. There he finds Vince sitting at one of the tables, enjoying some food while he talks to one of the cooks. Several other people are scattered in the hall, reading a book or mending some clothes. He is surprised to see that the table in the far-right corner now belongs to Ezekiel.

The king is sitting on a wooden bench, shoulders hunched as he goes through some papers. He looks old, Daryl realizes with a pang in his heart.

‘The little prince has returned!’

Daryl shakes his head but laughs at Jerry’s boisterous greeting. The man is never far from Ezekiel’s side and stands guard even in the dining hall. Black hair curly, smile always warm and bright. They hug.

‘Ah, Daryl,’ Ezekiel says as he moves some papers aside, ‘it pleases me to see you. It dawned on me that you might visit your quarters to relieve yourself of the burden of your pack. Forgive me. There wasn’t much time to make arrangements to have it ready for you.’

‘Done told you before,’ Daryl says as he sits down across from the man, ‘I don’t need nobody to clean my room for me, but… what is going on? Jayla said something about the pipes, and winter – that Washington helped out some, but… what’s wrong with the power grid you had?’

Ezekiel smiles, ‘the same as one might say that’s wrong with me; it grew old. A generator gave out, we have not been able to mend it. It matters not. We are grateful for Washington’s help with the batteries but they are a mere precaution. We shall see this through.’

‘A precaution? Mason said you’ve been asking regularly for them to be charged.’

‘Just to be safe.’

Daryl frowns, ‘why won’t you get the grid back up? Eugene could probably fix it for you, hook on some solar while he’s at it so you won’t have to rely on those generators so much. Or you could ask Felix to come around, he’s been dying to come back out here and he’s getting petty handy with the grid at Washington. He could fix the generator for sure. Ain’t just white noise that’s coming out of that dude, he’s real clever with that kind of stuff.’

‘At what cost?’ Ezekiel’s voice is suddenly sharp. ‘When we entered this union, we did not expect to face hardships alone, especially after all that the Kingdom has offered the other communities. When the Sanctuary was starving, we provided them food and means to pull themselves back into the saddle. Hilltop asked for horses, resources and fresh food, and we provided. Oceanside could not uphold their end of the bargain by protecting the trade routes and we stepped in to help.’ Ezekiel’s eyes narrow, ‘Alexandria went to war and my people _died_ for them. Where are they now?’

Daryl drums his fingers on the table. ‘Did you send out requests for help?’

A skeptical laugh escapes the king. ‘Pleas for help during winter were set aside; everyone was struggling. The Kingdom crumbled while we fought our other enemies. I kept trying to hold on. _We_ did,’ he says as he looks around the room, ‘but things fall apart. The cold set in. Fires raged. The rot spread. None of our pleas were answered. We thought maybe after winter, when there is an abundance, when the evil has been chased from our lands once again….’ He purses his lips and shakes his head. ‘Still no answer.’

‘Paul said something about renegotiating when he was at Washington, about a month ago.’

‘The food we grow feeds only my people now that our irrigation systems have broken down. Our soldiers need the horses that are left to patrol our borders. I need everyone here to tend to the fields and work on repairs. What’s there to negotiate when there is nothing to trade?’ He wipes a hand over his weathered face. ‘But we need not worry. We have survived worse calamities. We shall rise again.’

‘ _Winter_ will come again,’ Daryl says, ‘and going by the state of your buildings? You won’t survive another. This is bullshit. I don’t understand why they haven’t helped you.’

‘We were cut off from everyone, save Washington. Mason’s been a great help.’

‘Mason’s just an ally who’s keeping tabs and you’re running out of credit,’ Daryl warns. ‘That’s fine, ‘cause he ain’t kin. Hilltop, Alexandria, the Sanctuary? Hell – _everyone_ owes the Kingdom. The roads have been clear for months, wasn’t that what your goddamn deal was all about? Why hasn’t the trade started back up earlier?’

‘Fear lingers in the heart.’

Daryl gets but, ‘but not your damn minds, right? What’s wrong with you? You’d let the Kingdom go down because of some leaking pipes? You’ve built this place from the ground up, why not march down to Hilltop and Alexandria and _demand_ they back you up?’

‘Alexandria has high walls,’ Ezekiel says, ‘and a monopoly on guns and bullets. Hilltop has made it known that she doesn’t like my _meddling_ with things.’ Ezekiel seems to hesitate and then looks up at the younger man, ‘not everyone was so keen on that deal. As I said; fear lingers, especially when your enemy moves out of sight. Are we to believe that they’ve become pacifists, that they have chosen a peaceful resolution? Or were they as desperate as Maggie was to buy time and escape with as many as they could? And there were _many_ , Daryl. How long does it take for them to regroup? To rebuilt their horde?’

‘That’s exactly why you all need to work together. Build up our communities, train our own people, make sure we have provisions to last another siege. Hell, we should make sure we’re able to support each other in case a wall comes down. What would happen if the horde came down on the Kingdom now? Just the dead alone could rip it to fucking shreds!’

‘ _I am aware_!’ Ezekiel bites back.

‘ _Then do something about it_!’

Jerry clears his throat and looks uncomfortable. ‘Dude,’ he stage-whispers at the Dixon, ‘cool it! We’ve tried, but nobody took over after you left. There’s nobody running back and forth, keeping an eye on the big picture. Everyone’s just making sure their own shit is still up and running!’ He glances at the king. ‘Sorry, your majesty. For the cussing.’

‘Oh, fuck you,’ Daryl cuts in. ‘That’s the problem now? I quit my damn job and it all falls apart? Psssh. Just cogs in a machine, man, don’t go telling me I were irreplaceable. This is what I fucking hate about these places. Pick another to run your damn errands. This is so fucking stupid.’

‘It’s not about the cogs,’ Ezekiel says with a wave to silence Jerry, who frowns. ‘It’s about the _machine_. You were making the deals, holding people accountable, reminding them of what we were working towards; the new world. Nobody believes in it anymore. Alexandria cut everyone off. Hilltop is in hiding, the sanctuary is barely scraping by themselves. Who’s left to believe in it anymore?’

‘ _What_? You are!’

Ezekiel sits back, ‘I have learned my lesson. The Kingdom was a place of refuge, we sheltered those who were in a storm. We’ve sheltered those who brought the storm,’ he says with a pointed look at the younger man, ‘but no more. If this is the thanks we get? Backs turned on us? No. We will weather this storm like we have in the past. _Alone_.’

Daryl sucks on his teeth and lifts an eyebrow, ‘but with Washington’s batteries.’

‘They will be compensated.’

‘Just call a meeting. Everything can be sorted out.’

‘We’ve tried. Alexandria won’t come. Hilltop hasn’t answered. Oceanside can’t spare the people. Dwight and Beth were willing to make the journey. The Sanctuary and the Kingdom,’ Ezekiel says as he gestures at the dining hall. ‘Two beggars at an empty table.’

Daryl shakes his head. ‘That ain’t right.’

Ezekiel gets up. One gloved hand comes to rest on the younger man’s shoulder. ‘Nothing has been right or fair for a long, long time.’

The woods are loud. There are birds chirping and rustling the leaves. Small game shoots under bushes, past the trees and up the branches. The ground is soft due to a recent shower. It smells brand new. There are mushrooms growing in the shade, on fallen trees. Vines cover traces of the old world; a crashed car that is the only proof there was ever a backroad there, an old electrical box, a pile of building materials that is now nothing but rubble.

Daryl walks one of the old patrol routes. It weaves through the entire forest, passing the walker traps and well-hidden shacks that serve as shelter for hunters and soldiers caught out in sudden summer and snow storms. Just when shadows of the city can be seen in the distance, the path swerves back into the green and humid world he loves so much.

Walks like this normally clear his head. He used to sneak out of Hilltop all the time, ducking into one of the tunnels or scaling the wall to flee into the woods. To wind down after one of his nightmares, to escape one of Hershel tantrums or cool down before he’d explode into someone face. After roaming through the forest for a while, he’d be able to go back with a clearer mind and normal heartrate.

It doesn’t have that effect this time. His legs are aching, he’s been walking for hours now and his mind is still racing. His thoughts go in circles, always different but the same, the same, the same, round and round and round. There’s anger simmering in his veins.

He’s angry because the Kingdom deserves better than this. Even to this day, he remembers the sense of wonder that he’d felt while following Paul down that aisle towards the stage. Where the king had sat on his throne with a mighty tiger at his feet. Where a guard with an axe had turned out to be the friendliest of giants. Where he was given time to pick himself up and put himself back together before being given a purpose.

_I have a message for Rick Grimes of Alexandria._

He’s angry at the communities for letting things fall apart on their watch. He was never the one to inspire the dream of the New World, he hadn’t believed in it at the start, working on it out of a sense of guilt and a desperation to appear normal and well-adjusted. Even after belief started to set in, it was never for him. He’d wanted it for Judith, for Hershel, and every other kid that was born into this mess.

It had been so important for him to have a safe place to rest his head, he’d wanted that for them, too. A network of people who loved them, who’d work together to provide them with an environment that would give them space to grow up. Faster than they had done, but surrounded by love and protection. Growing up and growing strong together.

A kindness.

There’s guilt seeping into the anger, too. Or maybe it’s fueling it. Every community has buried their head in the sand, too worried about their own problems to be able to care about another’s. He’d ran away, too. From his job and everyone else, dropping them for his own peace of mind and selfish search for some normalcy and happiness. The instant gratification of finding his own way.

Others could have picked up his slack, of course. He’s in no way irreplaceable. There are people who are far better at negotiations, who have a more profound understanding of the trading system. Those people don’t often have a stake in the other communities, however. They try to get the best deal for their communities, try to get their people to come out on top, and Ezekiel is right; why would they trade with someone who has nothing to offer?

Daryl feels like he’s always been good at making the deals because people like him. They’re willing to add a little something-something when he asks, some more medical supplies because he knows Beth is hurting for them, some more sheep because it makes him beam, bullets from Alexandria because he’s theirs. Hilltop could be swayed to help Oceanside out after Daryl pushed them to promote their walker diversions.

He’s not a master negotiator. He’s bad with math, doesn’t really understand how things equate to each other, but there is one thing he’s very good at. He knows people. Their names and occupations, their skills and pitfalls, what drives them to get up every morning and what they need to keep going.

The time away has put things into perspective.

As a hunter he can earn his keep and he’s one of the best soldiers of this new world, but the title of little prince still sticks to him. While it was a relief to be almost anonymous in Washington, he feels like he’s let the people who’d looked at him for anything down.

He doesn’t regret running.

He knows that he needed the time away, to lick his wounds and gather himself. A painful lesson in expectations and reality, different points of view that can clash on execution in a heartbreaking way. But time has soothed those wounds, has dug it a place in his heart where he can bury it though the markers will never let him forget.

Maggie loves him. And he loves Maggie. That is a fact of life which will never change.

The deal was a betrayal in his eyes, and a kindness in hers.

Daryl reaches the gates. It creaks as it’s opened. The soldiers try their best not to look at him too much but he ignores it. It’s not the scar, he knows. Nobody in this world gives a fuck about things like that anymore, a double-take and sorry glance, it’s not why they keep looking his way.

He looks up at the big painting of Shiva he’d done in a different time. The colors have faded but the image is still striking. The roaring wild animal on crumbling bricks. Such a wild thing.

Daryl looks at one of the soldiers, a couple years older than him. ‘Saddle my horse.’

At first, Daryl had thought that Eshu was more docile than Khamsin had been. Her feet not so restless as they wait for gates to be opened, less resistant to be led into a barn for rest and food, never really showing off when inside the pen. He now knows that he was wrong. She’s not docile. She’s patient. Waiting like an athlete at the starting line, the clack of his tongue the starting shot that unleashes all her energy.

She’s fonder of jumping than Khamsin was, clearing low bushes and taking him by surprise more than once. It takes a lot for him to stay in the saddle, desperately holding on, but by the fourth one it starts to get easier. He starts to expect it, too, which gives him more time to brace himself.

He starts to trust her more with every mile they cover. She relaxes when he does, her stride becoming more even when he’s not holding onto the reigns so tightly. They trot and gallop and enjoy winding through the woods.

She dislikes asphalt under her feet.

He does too.

‘Easy, it’s just a sound diversion,’ Daryl says when Eshu takes a skittish step sideways, almost trying to back up until he tightens the reins again. ‘Easy. That’s right, take a second to get used to it.’ He strokes her sweaty neck while they wait for her to get comfortable. Daryl looks up at the tall trees surrounding them and can see the path of make-shift wind chimes that lures walkers away from the community.

‘Good. Yeah, sure,’ Daryl says when Eshu takes a hesitant step forward, ‘whenever you’re ready.’

A couple of quick steps, a wild jump forward and then she walks further like nothing ever bothered her.

Daryl laughs, ‘I won’t tell anyone, promise. We ain’t scared of nothing.’

The walker traps have been cleared and as he gallops along the wall, he sees how one of the guards raises his radio to alert the community of his arrival. The one on the strap of his bag doesn’t crackle to life, so they’re still using another frequency.

That simple fact alone causes his anger to flare up again after the relaxing ride over.

The soldiers are lucky that they don’t wait for permission before opening up the gate for him. They only have to suffer the murderous glare for a second as he flashes past, Eshu a streak of gold in the fading light of the afternoon.

Khamsin’s name on the door of the biggest box causes his heart to ache slightly, but he’s glad that it’s still empty. He’ll whittle a new nameplate when he gets the time. None of that really matter anymore anyway. Eshu seems to like the box, whinnying happily and playing around with the water while he brushes her down.

‘Is that your new horse, or did you borrow one?’

Daryl sucks on his teeth. ‘My new one. Paul brought her over.’

Carl leans against the half-door. ‘Nice. Really pretty.’

‘Yeah.’

His brother seems surprised by his clipped answers and tries to get eye-contact. ‘I didn’t expect you back so soon.’

‘Hmm-hmm.’ Daryl finishes up his chores and gives Eshu a kiss on her neck, strokes the lock of hair out her eyes and then steps out of the box. As soon as they’re out of eyesight of the horses, he whirls around and pushes his brother up against the wall. He’s always been an inch smaller than Carl, but he’s always been stronger, too.

Carl’s eye widens. One hand grabs hold of his brother’s wrist to keep him from pressing down on his airway. ‘What-‘

‘ _Why’s the Kingdom starving_?’

‘I don’t know what-‘

‘Why’s it falling into ruin? Have you fucking seen that town? One decent sized herd and we’ll never fucking see them again. The wall will come down and then every other building. They ain’t got enough power – their grid went down, they can’t even keep their infirmary up and running half of the time without some batteries from Washington.’

Carl blinks. ‘We haven’t heard from them-‘

‘Ezekiel called a meeting and you didn’t answer. They barely survived the winter. Everyone were struggling at that time, I get it, but it’s summer now. They think they’re all alone! Hell, this town owes the Kingdom more than that case of bullets they got at the fair, man. What the hell are you doing, hiding behind your own damn walls?’

Carl pulls at his wrist again. ‘Let go of me.’

Daryl steps back. ‘When Alexandria blew up the bridge, cut ties at first? Fuck, I understood, man. Something like that happens, you want to cut ‘nd run, you don’t got to explain nothing about that to me, but it’s been months now. That whole idea of the New World you had? It’s falling to pieces ‘nd Ezekiel’s people are paying to price for it.’

‘Michonne said it would be best to-‘

‘Michonne lost her fucking husband and with those Whisperers looming about? ‘Course she burned every fucking bridge to keep you ‘nd Asskicker safe. You’re all she’s got left of him. But that’s what the deal was for, right? They’re gone and the kingdom’s still starving.’ Daryl steps closer to his brother, ‘Rick wouldn’t have wanted this, man. All of us on our little islands? Ain’t right.’

Carl scoffs. ‘Yeah, you’re one to talk! What? You run away, hide in Washington and now you’re back all of a sudden with all the answers? Fuck off man.’ He pushes at Daryl’s chest, ‘don’t you think I tried to change Michonne’s mind? How do you think I felt, being cut off from you?’

‘Cut off from _me_? I left you a thousand letters in the fucking box out in the woods! Every night, I would try to raise you on the radio. Sometimes Enid would answer, tell me how you were doing. Don’t act like _you_ were cut off from _me_ , when you couldn’t bother to answer the radio or write a damn postcard back.’

Carl shakes his head and shrugs, looking younger than he is. ‘I thought it would make it easier.’

Daryl sneers at him. ‘Never were the brains of the operation, were you?’

The one eye narrows. ‘Oh, and you were?’

‘Never said that,’ Daryl says with a smirk. ‘Always were the second in command. To Shane, Maggie ‘nd Glenn.’ The smirk fades. ‘To Rick, man. And to you. What the hell happened with the Kingdom? It’s all going to fall apart if we don’t do something. I thought that’s what you wanted, the New World?’

‘It is!’ Carl sighs and scratches at one of the old scars near his eye. ‘It’s just not that simple anymore.’

‘It was a fuck-ton of things, but never simple,’ Daryl says. He lets his voice drop to an urged whisper, ‘they _are_ going to come back. We’re going to need the Kingdom when they do. Hell, if you don’t give a fuck about them, at least care about that. They’ve got the best soldiers but next winter? They’re going to need to eat their own horses, man.’

Carl pushes him aside again and starts to walk towards his house. ‘Of course I care about them!’

‘Sure doesn’t look like it. The hell are you ignoring Ezekiel’s pleas for? You came running when you heard I’d gone missing so someone’s monitoring the line.’

Carl grinds his teeth together for a second. ‘Enid. She has one of the portable radios.’ He bows his head. ‘I think she misses Hilltop. Sometimes I’ll hear her talk to Maggie when she thinks I’m not home.’

‘It doesn’t have to be like this. We can start over. A new deal, with all of us. New negotiations so Washington will get a fair share, hell, we could throw together a fair just like last time. Bring them all together again. Get strong again.’ Daryl grabs hold of Carl’s shoulder and forces his brother to faces him. ‘They’ll move on without Alexandria. I’m sure Hilltop will join back in, Oceanside as well. We’ll learn how to make our own damn bullets and leave you here in peace.’

Carl frowns.

‘High walls, walker traps, Oceanside’s deterrents are still up, huh? Got your bullets, bunch of guns, hmm. Hell, maybe the old man were right. _An embarrassment of riches_.’ Daryl cocks an eyebrow. ‘I know you’re still sleeping with your gun on the nightstand though.’

‘You are not safe,’ Carl says softly. ‘No matter how many people are around. Or how clear the area looks. No matter what anyone says. Or what you think. You are _not_ safe.’

Daryl nods. ‘What’ll happen if you don’t even have a place to run to if things go to shit here? We’ve come so far. So many people sacrificed so much… it can’t be for nothing, man. We can’t let our friends down like that.’

‘You’re right.’

‘Of course I am,’ Daryl smirks as he aims a light kick at his brother’s leg. ‘Come on. The New world is gonna need a Grimes.’

It’s dark when Daryl sits in his windowsill to smoke a cigarette. The whole town is quiet. A light summer breeze causes the wind chimes on their porch to softly sing. The wall is too far away to hear the footsteps of the patrols, or the occasional bang of a stray walker that managed to slip through the cracks of diversion system to ram up against the metal. Everyone seems to be asleep.

He almost understands why Michonne would want to hold onto this.

In the quiet, it’s easy to pick up on the sound of a door opening right down the hall. A familiar set of footfalls heading downstairs. Another door opening. The footfalls disappearing.

After a couple of seconds, he ends his cigarette to follow the person. Down the stairs and the hallway, down the second set of stairs into the cellar.

Michonne doesn’t seems surprised to see him. She’s sitting at a small wooden table that has little more than a notebook, pen, radio and lamp on it. The lamp is bright in the darkness of the cellar. It’s a space they’ve hardly ever used.

Soft murmurs come from the radio. A patrol from the kingdom warns that a walker trap needs to be cleared in the morning. Another patrol from the Sanctuary checks in on the hour-mark.

‘I thought Enid was the only one who’d been paying attention to the outside world in here,’ Daryl says as he grabs another chair and drags it over to the table. He sits down.

Michonne shakes her head. ‘So many times I’ve wanted to pick up that receiver… Maggie kept trying to reach out after… And when you disappeared,’ she purses her lips and closes her eyes briefly. ‘She was distraught. I wanted to reach out. Help her. Say something.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Because I’d made the decision to distance ourselves,’ Michonne says, ‘and I didn’t make it lightly. It wasn’t easy, but I thought it was necessary. I thought it was what’s best for _my_ community. _My_ children. If we hadn’t, maybe Maggie wouldn’t have accepted the deal. Another fight? Another war even? I turned my back on them. I couldn’t risk that. Not with Judith so small. Not with…’ her hand comes to rest on her round belly.

‘It doesn’t have to be this way,’ Daryl says.

‘I know you’ve talked to Carl.’ Her voice is sharp. ‘I’m sorry about the Kingdom, but we all have our hardships.’

‘That’s the entire point. We can help each other. We _have to_ help each other.’ Daryl leans forward. ‘We’ve lost so many places already. Home, and the farm – the prison. The wall I painted for Rick? It’s not just to remember the dead, it’s to remember how we got here. We’ve lost so much already. Don’t add to that.’

She shakes her head.

Daryl leans forward. ‘You can change your mind. Nobody blames you.’

‘I have to keep them _safe_.’

‘We’ve always kept _each other_ safe. I ain’t doing this for you or me. I’ve been keeping Judith safe since she were born. Finding formula, clothes, helping Rick to keep it all together. We gotta keep it together, ‘chonne. We need a strong Kingdom. We need Washington. We need _our friends.’_

‘ _Your_ friends.’ Michonne looks at him. ‘Washington will drop us if you say so.’

Daryl gets up. ‘Why would I say so?’

Michonne shakes her head again. Shaking fingers cover her mouth. She looks scared.

‘You’re my blood,’ Daryl says softly, ‘but they are, too. Time for us all to make up our damn minds.’

The sun is bright when he rides through the fields. The corn reaches his thighs, lush and green and smelling like the farm only some of them remember. The earth is loose and moist due to their irrigation system. The wooden fences brand new, recently stained and now open so he can burst onto the main road.

The gate is open. Welcoming, with smiling guards leaning against them that push themselves up quickly when they spot him. The smile fades into a look of astonishment. The most senior of them pushes one of the younger ones towards the big house looming behind them.

‘Go warn Maggie.’

Daryl gallops past them, spares them only a curt nod before he slows down to reach the stables. Nothing has changed here and he’s not surprised at all to find Dante mucking out one of the last boxes. Shirt sweat-stained, dark hair slicked back but eyes warm and filled with relief when he sees the younger man.

‘Oh thank God,’ he breathes. ‘Daryl…’

‘Thanks for taking care of my girl while I were gone,’ Daryl says as he jumps down and nuzzles his horse. ‘Can I leave her with you? I’ve got a message for Maggie.’

‘Of course, yeah – sure.’ Dante staggers forward to take the reins from him. ‘Hey,’ he says, hesitating to reach out and stop the teenager from walking away. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘Thanks, man. See you around.’

People gape at him as he walks past. They wave and smile, relieved and so happy to see him back in their community. The news of his arrival spreads fast thanks to some kids. Harlan appears outside of his trailer, a hand over his heart at the sight of the teenager. It doesn’t take long before Alex appears beside him, a book still in his hands but a smile on his face.

He stops walking half-way up the path to Barrington House. The French doors of the balcony opened and the curtains billow in the wind. Maggie steps out onto the balcony with Hershel on her hip.

They look at each other.

‘Daryl!’ Paul comes running up the path with a bunch of excited kids in his wake. He’d probably been busy teaching until one had come to bring the news.

Daryl starts walking again before the scout can reach him. ‘Hi, Paul. Good to see you. I’ve got a letter for Maggie.’

‘Oh,’ Paul glances up at the balcony. ‘Yeah, of course. I’ll – I’ll see you later.’

‘Sure, man,’ Daryl mutters as he heads up the few stairs to push the big doors of the house open. Up the stairs and down the hall until he steps into Maggie’s room. He hangs the crossbow on the hook by the door before moving on, stopping only when his mom steps into the room as well.

She looks thinner, frail in a strange way, sad. Her eyes have no trouble meeting his however.

Hershel is asleep against her shoulder. Mouth open, hair sticking up in all directions. He’d probably refused to go down for his nap again.

‘Hello Daryl.’ It’s strange to hear her use his actual name. ‘Welcome back. We didn’t know you were coming. It’s good to see you.’

‘So people keep telling me,’ he says. His backpack lands on the floor with a heavy thud. He rummages through it and then holds out a letter. ‘It’s from Ezekiel.’

Maggie takes it but immediately puts it down on the table next to her. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s important.’

‘You wouldn’t have made the journey otherwise,’ she says with a nod. ‘I’ll read it later.’

He wobbles on the balls of his feet. ‘Yeah. Okay. So I guess I’ll just-‘

‘I’m not sorry.’

The words cause him to flinch.

‘About the deal. I’m not sorry about that. I’ll always do what’s best for us, even if you can’t see it yet. I’m sorry you felt betrayed, but there was no other way to get it done. I’m not sorry about that.’

He nods.

‘So if you came here looking for an apology…’

‘Ain’t looking at you for nothing,’ Daryl bites out. ‘Read the damn letter, because others are. See you later, _Maggie_.’


	13. experience

* * *

The warmth of summer disappears with every step he takes. Shadows grow darker until they swallow him whole, consuming him until his eyes adjust. The wood creaks under his weight; betraying him by announcing his presence. A strange light flickers over the wall, left to right until it lands on his chest, shoots up to his face and blinds him for a second.

It disappears when he brings up a hand to shield his eyes. Shadows vanish, melt away into the grayness of the world down below. Fingertips touch cold bars as he walks past them until he stops in front of one of the cells. Dust dances in one of the last rays of sunshine the falls through a cracked window.

‘They trust you with that? Or they hoping you’ll finally pull the trigger and actually use it?’

Negan pauses, razor hovering right above the fragile skin of his neck. One side of his mouth curls up into a smirk. He eyes the teenager through the piece of glass that he’d used earlier to peek around the corner. ‘I’m not sure,’ he admits. The razor scrapes over his skin.

‘Lydia smuggle that in for you?’

‘Nobody has taken it away,’ Negan murmurs as he tilts his head to the other side. ‘Either they’re too stupid to notice, or nobody gives a fuck. The beard itches. They probably got sick of me complaining about it.’

‘Everyone’s sick of _you_ , but nobody is doing anything about that.’

Negan laughs softly as he wipes his blade clean on his jeans. ‘You’ve got your mom to thank for that.’ He catches Daryl’s dark look via the mirror but ignores it. ‘How long have you been back?’

‘About an hour.’ Daryl scrapes his boot over a stone, tracing the edge of it. He leans against the bars with his shoulder. ‘Had some letters to deliver ‘nd stuff.’

‘That right, hmm?’ the prisoner puts the razor down and slowly gets up. He walks over to the bars. Once he’s within reach, he strikes. Cold, wet fingers curl around the teenager’s chin, yanking him close, causing the skin to turn white under the pressure. ‘If you ever run away like that again, I’ll break every single bone in your body. And when I’m done? I’ll find all your little asshole friends, make them work the wall. Cut that dick off your boyfriend for good measure.’

Daryl reaches between the bars, grabs hold of Negan’s shirt and pulls him closer. With a sigh, he lets his head rest on the man’s shoulder.

Negan is quiet for a second. Then he takes Daryl’s baseball cap off and throws onto his bunk before running his fingers through the younger man’s shaggy hair. ‘It’s all right, little prince,’ he murmurs before he kisses his temple. ‘You’re alright.’

‘Everything’s all fucked up, man.’

‘So nothing has changed. Things have been fucked up – hell, they were fucked up before all of this started. Maybe you were too young to notice, but you know it now. That patchwork you’re sporting on your back? That was fucked up. Rick and his little dick brigade gunning down my people while they were sleeping? That was _fucked up_.’

Daryl leans back with narrowed eyes. ‘You beating my dad to death were.’

‘ _That_?’ Negan sucks on his teeth. ‘That was justice. What?’ He laughs, ‘I should have locked you all up, like this?’ He gestures to his own cell. ‘What would that have achieved?’

‘You locked _me_ up.’

‘Well,’ a toothy grin, ‘you’re _special_!’

Daryl’s face hardens. He turns on his heels and takes a step towards the stairs.

‘Rick used to tell me about that new world of his,’ Negan says. ‘He used to visit me all the time. Drag his chair over, nag about that goddamn bridge, that watermill you were building. Every day. _Fuck_ , he was annoying.’ He walks back to his bunk. It creaks when he sits on it. ‘Moralistic bullshit about how it was human nature to come together. That it was working. That he was building a future, just like he said he would.’

Daryl stops and listens.

‘A future,’ Negan scoffs, ‘for that little one-eyed serial killer of his. That blonde angel. You.’

‘Didn’t work out,’ Daryl says.

Negan laughs.

‘The hell you braying about?’ The Dixon asks as he stalks back to the cell, angry that the man is now out of his reach.

‘Wish I could have seen Rick’s face now. I told him that damn bridge wasn’t the future. It’s a monument for the dead.’ Negan grins and stretches out on his bunk, long legs crossed at the ankles and his hands behind his head. ‘All this pussy-footing around? Letters, negotiations, meetings – people don’t need that. Nobody wants that. They want someone with some goddamn _balls_ leading this place. Ooh, little prince,’ he says softly, eyes dark as he smiles, ‘just imagine. A king and now two widows… they’re not running this show. They’re not _saving_ this world. They’re just getting it ready for _me_.’

‘It were yours,’ Daryl says, ‘and you lost it.’

‘I did. You know what that gives me? _Experience_. I can see the signs. The blood is on the wall. All I have to do is wait, and it will _all_ come crashing down.’

Daryl leans against the bars with his shoulder. ‘Maybe. Guess it never stood a chance, Rick’s New World.’ He takes his knife and cleans his fingernails with the sharp tip. ‘Did I ever tell you how we ended up in Alexandria in the first place?’

Negan shakes his head.

‘We were heading to Washington – trying to get there, anyway. Everything went wrong. We ended up on this road, no food, no water, bunch of dead assholes trailing us. After a while, things were starting to get pretty desperate. And then all of a sudden, we found these water bottles on the road. They had a note on them; from a friend.’

‘No fucking way.’

Daryl nods. ‘We didn’t drink any of it – thought it were poisoned or something. Then this big storm rolled in, we had to wait it out in this fucked up barn – one of the worst nights of my life, man. Morning broke and…’ he huffs out a breath of laugher, ‘Maggie ‘nd Sasha walk in with this guy…’

‘ _A guy_?’

‘Yeah. Aaron. He’d been spying on us for a while, invited us to come back to Alexandria and audition.’

Negan laughs. ‘Holy _shit_.’

Daryl smiles as he looks at the prisoner. ‘It was Aaron who started the New World with that. ‘Glenn at the quarry. Hershel at the prison. Aaron at Alexandria. All urging us not to give up on one another.’ He puts the knife away. ‘Guess it’s human nature after all.’

Dante has Hershel on his hip. One of the boy’s hand in his, his big palm pressed against the back of the boy’s, guiding him closer to the nose of one of the horses. It must have twitched against the soft palm, because Hershel giggled and then tries to squirm away. He turns and buries his face in Dante’s broad chest, giggling with that high-pitched voice Daryl would recognize anywhere.

The soldier, with his boy.

Maggie is leaning against the fence nearby. Eyes distant and an apple forgotten in her hand. It’s turning brown at the edges, meaning that she has been standing there for a very long time already.

‘I can’t remember what my mom used to look like,’ Daryl says as he steps up to stand beside her. It makes her jump, reminding him of all the times his appearance had scared her in the dark tunnels of the prison, feet silent even in the tombs. ‘I had this picture of her, at the beginning, but I lost it. Everyone used to say that I looked like her. That was a long time ago though.’

‘You’ve changed a lot,’ Maggie says softly, ‘but Merle still recognized her in you.’

‘He was just being nice. He knew I liked to hear that.’

‘I knew Will,’ Maggie says. ‘And you’re nothing like him. Merle wasn’t the type of person to spare one’s feelings.’

‘He was, but only when they were mine.’ Daryl watches how Eshu grazes in the distance. White mane sparkling in the sunlight, dust billowing up as she slowly walks over a dry patch of land. There’s no restlessness in her body, no tail slashing, no ears swishing, no stomping hooves and eager shrieks whenever someone passes her pen. She’s calm, though he doesn’t doubt that she’ll be ready to go as soon as he whistles or calls her over.

Maggie looks at him out of the corner of her eyes.

‘I hate it when someone who ain’t my blood call me Dare. It ain’t for them. I fucking hate it even more when you call me Daryl though.’ He wipes his nose on the back of his hand, ‘when Glenn ordered me to stay in the house with you, that time at the farm? When Beth were hurtin’? I thought he’d lost his damn mind passing me off to some stranger.’

Maggie’s fingernails dig into the browning flesh of the apple but she smiles.

‘That dumb ass knew what he was doing though. You kept me on the straight ‘nd narrow – for the most part. Always making sure I had a place to stay, even when everyone else were lookin’ at me like I were the devil. Teaching me things were fine with Eric ‘nd Aaron.’

She laughs softly. ‘You were so confused.’

‘Imagine how I felt when Jesus showed up. Felt like I were the one who got hit by that damn truck.’ Daryl watches how she shakes her head fondly and smiles, too. It fades quickly though. ‘I’m not that kid anymore though.’

‘I know that,’ Maggie says. ‘I’m sorry I’ve hurt you by making the deal – when I said I wasn’t sorry… I just…. I’ll do anything to keep you safe. To keep you alive. I’ve lost so many family members already. I’m not going to bury one of my sons. I’m _not_.’

‘Well, I ain’t planning on dying anymore, and Kiss seems to be in pretty safe hands with you two, so…’

‘Case closed,’ Maggie says with a roll of her eyes but a faint smile on her face. The wind plays with her dark hair.

‘I don’t get what all the fuss is about either,’ Daryl says with a snigger as he digs around in his pocket to find a cigarette. He lights it and sucks the air into his lungs.

‘I can see that you’re not planning on dying anymore,’ Maggie remarks dryly.

‘Not, like, actively. Made my peace with not growing old a while ago though.’ The nicotine makes him slightly light-headed. He leans against the fence with his elbows. ‘Did you read the letter? Things are pretty messed up at the Kingdom. We gotta help ‘em out.’

‘I did. And you’re right; we do. So what’s your plan?’

‘It didn’t really go further than; tell you to fix shit.’ He takes a drag and scrunches up his nose. ‘And sorta help you out.’

Maggie smiles at him. ‘Right. Did you stop by Alexandria on the way over?’

‘Yeah. Michonne weren’t too keen but… If you call a meeting? It’s gonna be a toss-up whether they show.’

‘We’ll do it with or without them,’ Maggie says.

A high-pitched shriek causes both of their gazes to snap forward. Dante suddenly seems to be struggling to hold onto Hershel. The little boy is kicking and squirming and the man lowers him to the ground. As soon as his feet hit the grass, he starts to run. Arms outstretched, face lit up with glee.

Daryl throws the cigarette on the ground, stomps it out and then hops over the fence. Normally, he’d let Kiss run to practice, but now he meets him half-way, grabbing him under his armpits to hoist him up in the air, catching him easily before hugging him tightly.

‘She’s really glad you came back,’ Dante says as he sits down next to Daryl on the couch. The teenager is slumped in his seat, dirty boots resting on the expensive coffee table while one hand covers his eyes. There’s a stack of notes from Ellie in his lap. Messages left for him while he was away, reports he needs to go through, old rosters of guard duty with his name crossed out.

‘Don’t mean no offense,’ Daryl says as he slowly removes the hand and looks at the man, ‘but if one more person says that she has missed me so much, I’m gonna throw up.’

The corner of Dante’s mouth curls upwards. ‘I won’t tell you then. Thank you for taking Hershel up, by the way.’

‘’course, was my fault for riling him up by existing, I guess.’

‘He missed you,’ Dante says with a smirk.

Daryl sticks his finger in his mouth and pretends to gag. He watches how the man starts to laugh and smirks, too. ‘So,’ he lets his head thud onto the couch cushion behind him, ‘how’s things been going ‘round here? That new foal gave you any trouble?’

‘Not at all, one of the other horses got some lameness though. Julia had some advice but Maggie’s taken care of it for the most part. I’ve been trying out some new feed, one of the older horses –‘

Daryl listens and watches how Dante tells about the animals, hands gesturing wildly as he tells about a riding lesson gone wrong with one of the teenagers from the expansion. The laughter is infectious. It’s not the first time that Daryl’s grateful the man came into their lives. There’s always warmth in his tone of voice, even when he’s telling Hershel off or when he’s arguing with Maggie behind closed doors.

‘So, yeah,’ Dante says as he scratches at the shadow of a beard on his chin, suddenly embarrassed by the amount he’s been speaking, ‘it’s been going well. How err… how are things in Washington?’

‘Quiet. Good,’ Daryl says with a nod. ‘Got to see a lot more of it, met more people. Before I was just joined at the hip with Tai, going where he goes, you know? But… they gave me a job, made me earn my keep. That was good.’

‘Right.’

‘It helps, with… stuff, you know? I’ve been going to those damn therapy sessions with Harlan but it was just for show. Weren’t helping, was almost like a game; trying to figure out the right things so he would say I were fucking cured.’ Daryl snorts. ‘Appreciate him trying but… doesn’t take your mind off of it. Everyone taking me off the rosters, being real careful… Nah. I’d rather just work, get on with normal stuff.’

Dante nods, ‘I get that. That works for some.’

‘Yeah. I’ll talk about it when I want to, not when it’s noon on Tuesdays. Like with the panic attacks, and you said you had them too sometimes? That shit helps. Made me feels like I weren’t some weak pussy with a broken brain.’ Daryl plucks at his lower lip. ‘’s why I like talkin’ to Shane ‘nd Glenn. Don’t need to make no appointment.’

‘But they can’t offer any advice.’

‘What kind of advice?’ Daryl asks with a frown. ‘My brother’s dead and some asshole is wearing his face. Had to pick up Rick’s severed head and put it in a bag to deliver it to Michonne. What kind of advice could you give to help with that? You make your peace with it or you opt out. Ain’t no other options.’

‘You chose another option. You wanted war.’

‘That’s what comes after,’ Daryl says. ‘Merle’s dead, killing Beta wouldn’t bring him back. Sure, were itching for some vengeance but it ain’t just that. He killed _Rick_. You think that were a coincidence, that he just happened to stumble on that group returning from the Kingdom? Nah, he had a plan, just like we did; kill the leaders and leave the rest to scramble. Negan took care of Alpha for us. And Beta took Rick. Problem is… we got several alpha’s.’

Dante’s gaze jerks to Maggie, who’s talking to some people near the kitchens.

‘Lernaean Hydra,’ Daryl mutters. ‘The sea monster with many heads. Shane told me about that story when he found out that there was more than one Dixon brother out there. So part of it was vengeance, sure, but as long as that asshole’s out there plotting the same damn thing…’ He, too, glances over at Maggie, ‘she ain’t ever going to be safe.’

‘They might not come back. They’ve suffered so many losses…’

‘You really think he gives a shit about who he loses? Only person he gave a damn about is in the ground.’ Out of the corner of his eye, he catches how Paul quickly walks down the big staircase while adjusting the straps of his knife on his left leg. Wearing his coat and a dark beanie, one of his scarfs tied around his waist, geared up for anything.

Daryl yawns and stretches before patting Dante on the knee. ‘We’ll figure shit out. Know I don’t say it a lot, but I’m really glad you’ve stuck around. Can’t have been easy, broken nights, raising someone else’s kid – moody ass teenager skulking around town.’

Dante laughs.

‘I’m glad you’re here, with them,’ Daryl tells him. ‘It makes me sleep a whole lot easier.’

The man seems embarrassed. ‘Oh – I’m not doing a whole lot.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘Whole lot of people would have bailed, man. I know we got off a bit shaky with you sticking your tongue down my mom’s throat and all… ‘

Dante looks shocked for a second.

Daryl laughs.

‘I hate you.’

The teenager shoves his shoulder before getting up. ‘Kiddin’, kinda. See you ‘round, man.’ He grabs his jacket from the coatrack and picks up his crossbow. The sun is starting to go down. The fading light is orange and pink, deeper in color the closer to the horizon it gets. The temperature is slowly dropping too, though it won’t get cold overnight with this kind of sky, he knows.

The ladder creaks, which causes one of the soldiers to glance over his soldier. He straightens when he spots the youngest Dixon, nervously tugging at his armor and slumping with relief when the teenager doesn’t pay him any mind. His partner, an older woman, rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

‘Hey Dixon,’ she calls out. ‘He swapped with Tommy, so he’s on the south side.’

Daryl stops in his tracks and heads the other way, passing them again. ‘Maybe I’m just enjoying the sights.’

‘Sure. I just think you might like the sight on the south side a whole lot better.’

Daryl laughs but flicks her off. It doesn’t take him long to spot Paul. He’s sitting cross legged on a table, head bowed and book in his lap. The long hair spills over one shoulder. One hand keeps coming up to push it behind his ear.

There’s a soldier standing on guard next to him. One of the new guys, which is easy enough to spot because he too is fidgeting with his gear. The armor hasn’t become a second-skin yet and he keeps checking the stand with arrows next to the table, counting them over and over.

‘How come it always feels like we’re going through a messy break-up, and we ain’t ever hooked up?’

Paul’s head snaps up, eyes light with surprised laughter.

The soldier chokes on his own spit, ears and cheeks bright red as he regains his composure.

‘You okay?’ Daryl asks him with a raised eyebrow before he sits down on the table next to his friend. There’s a small smile playing around his lips when Paul shakes his head at him. ‘What?’

‘Nothing. How are you?’

‘Locked in a room with Maggie, Kal and Eduardo for three hours and you haven’t even discussed how I am? I’m _wounded_.’

Paul arches an eyebrow, ‘wounded? You really have been spending time with Ezekiel.’

‘Got me using all kinds of fancy words,’ Daryl smirks. ‘Turnin’ me into a true prince.’

‘There’s still some work to be done on that use of grammar, but you’ve come a long way.’

‘Who fucking cares about grammar, as long as you get what I’m saying, it’s fine.’ The teenager rummages around in his pockets and finds his cigarettes, lighting one. ‘I saw you come down a couple of minutes ago – the meeting took a lot longer than I thought it would. Did Maggie fill you in?’

Paul nods. ‘She did. I was surprised you weren’t at the meeting.’

‘I was putting Kiss to bed, wanted to spend some time with him.’

Paul narrows his eyes.

‘Ain’t up to me what you guys decide. I’m just the messenger.’

‘What _Maggie_ decides,’ the scout says. ‘And I think there’s a lot more riding on her decision than just the Kingdom’s survival. She’s committed to help though. She’ll send out word for a meeting in the morning. We’ll probably hold it at the Sanctuary. It’s closest to all communities and on neutral ground.’

Daryl snorts and pulls a face. ‘ _Neutral ground_ , huh. Maybe she’s just banking on me not showing up there either. Whatever. A meeting’s a good first step, I guess.’

‘I think so, too,’ Paul says softly. ‘She said things were better between you two.’

‘That something you discuss at those meetings now?’

‘It feels like you’re setting her up for failure,’ Paul says, voice sharper now. ‘She wants to mend things between you two, but if she decided not to help the Kingdom? What if our harvest falls short, our people get sick and we can’t help? You’re putting her in a corner and I don’t think it’s fair.’

Daryl laughs. ‘You really think I’m a fucking idiot, don’t you? I know we can’t give the Kingdom things we don’t have. If the harvest fails, we’ll _all_ be fucked. There are no signs of that happening though. And if it does? That ain’t on her. What’s on her is how we deal with it. This burying our heads in the sand bullshit? It’s gotta stop. They’re our friends. Our blood.’

‘I don’t think – ‘ Paul sighs and shakes his head. ‘I’m just worried that you’re trying to find ways to punish her still.’

‘How about this,’ Daryl offers, ‘keep your nose out of our business because all you do is spray some bullshit.’

‘Fine.’ The word is clipped and Paul turns back to his book.

‘Good talk.’ He blows the smoke into the air and watches how it disappears.

To her credit, Maggie doesn’t seem surprised at all when Daryl leads Eshu out of the barn two days later. She’s standing next to her dark horse, eyes on Dante who has Hershel on his shoulders while he talks to Aaron, who has agreed to stay behind as well. The little boy is slumped over his stepdad’s head, tired after playing with Gracie all morning.

‘We said that one of us would always stay here, with him,’ Maggie says when her son steps up beside her.

‘One of us is,’ Daryl answers as he clips his baseball cap to his belt so he won’t lose it if they decide to step up the pace. ‘Dante ain’t packing his bags in the middle of the night or nothing.’

Maggie looks at him for a moment. Then she smiles and reaches out, fingertips stroking his cheek. ‘I love you.’

‘Same,’ he turns away to tighten one of the straps of his saddle. ‘Have you heard anything from Alexandria yet?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Maybe it’ll be a surprise visit then,’ Daryl says with a grunt as he hoists himself onto the saddle. Eshu’s ears flick back and forth eagerly but she stays put until he’s settled with his feet in the stirrups. ‘Thanks girl, let’s go,’ he says as he scratches the spot on her neck that he knows always itches.

The gate opens up when Maggie mounts her horse as well. Paul and Kal are already waiting near the grain fields, Paul on his spotted horse while Kal is on a chestnut. They don’t say anything, just tug at the reigns before riding towards the forest trail that they’ll take.

Nobody really says much of anything during the entire trip. Maggie tries to get him to make some small talk by asking after Taiwo and Amaka, or Judith, but he cuts her off by saying she can ask them herself later. There’s a story about Hershel that dies out between them because he hadn’t been there. In the end, they both feel more at ease with the silence between them.

It’s late in the afternoon when Daryl breaks the tree line first and sees the old factory out in the distance. With a shock, he realizes how much has changed since he’d last been there. It used to remind him of a burn-mark. A dark scar on the face of the earth, blackened out, too much metal and brick to really fit into its surroundings, but it looks different now.

Deep moats have been dug around the complex as walker deterrents. They just stumble in and are then easily taken care of, but some of the old walls are still up as well. The yard is no longer filled with scrap metal and the memories of walkers chained to the walls. Instead, gardens give some much-needed color and life to the building.

Bridges are lowered so they can cross safely, hooves loud on the wooden planks which causes Paul’s horse to panic and he needs Maggie’s help to calm her down. Eshu doesn’t mind at all, she hardly seems to notice the noise or the chaos behind them.

A sharp whistle causes Daryl to look up at the landing, where the door to the first level is. He smiles when Beth waves at him, though his smile grows bigger when he spots Taiwo right next to his sister. Gravel crunches under his boots when he jumps down and someone is already there to take his horse towards the back of the building, where the stables are now located.

Taking the stairs two at the time, he reaches the top slightly breathless. One arm loops around Taiwo’s neck, bringing him for a kiss. ‘Hey, I thought we’d beat you guys here for sure.’

‘Hitched a ride with Ezekiel,’ Taiwo admits. ‘We arrived about two hours ago.’

‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ Daryl grins before stealing another kiss.

‘It’s good to see you,’ Taiwo says as he traces the right side of Daryl’s jaw with his hand, the fingertip of his thumb touching the edge of his scar for just a moment. Then he pushes his face away, ‘say hi to your sister.’

‘Hi,’ Daryl laughs when he hugs Beth.

‘Hey stranger,’ she tells him, though she’s stolen away by Maggie a few seconds later when her big sister climbs the staircase and wants her own hug. There’s a flurry of greetings as Paul and Kal join them.

‘No sign of Alexandria yet?’ Daryl asks Taiwo while they head into the factory.

‘There’s still time,’ he assures him. ‘Come on, they got us a room. You can put your pack there, dinner’s almost ready.’

An hour later, he’s standing on the landing with Beth. Down below, the central table in the dining hall hosts their family. Maggie is talking to Sam, who looks slightly nervous now that Beth isn’t by his side, though Taiwo seems to be saving him from getting grilled too much. Mason is listening to Kal while Paul exchanges pleasantries with Ezekiel and Jerry.

‘The meeting isn’t until tomorrow. Oceanside will arrive in the morning, too, maybe Alexandria will, too,’ Beth says.

‘Yeah. Otherwise this will have to do,’ Daryl says with a fond smile on his face when he sees Sam squirm while Taiwo laughs over something Maggie said. ‘This ain’t fair. Why did Sam never get the awkward family introduction? Remember how Tai had to come up to the head table at Alexandria? _Jesus_.’

‘I don’t think Sam would have survived. He’s kind of shy,’ Beth says as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

‘He been good to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.’

Beth sighs softly, ‘thank you for doing this.’

‘Shouldn’t have waited until I came back around,’ Daryl says, ‘but…. Yeah, it’s good everyone’s coming back together.’

‘It is,’ Beth says as she reaches out for his hand and places it on her belly. His eyes widen when he feels the slight swelling there. ‘The New World, right?’


	14. Early days

* * *

‘Really?’ Taiwo asks from where he’s stretched out on the bed, one arm curled around the pillow to prop himself up. ‘Pregnant? Wow. I didn’t even notice, or see, or anything.’

‘Early days,’ Daryl muses. He’s sitting on the desk, one leg dangling down while he leans half against the wall and half against the window. It’s dark out, the world is nothing but black and gray shadows. With the light on in their room, it’s even difficult to tell where the forest starts or road leads. The smell of cigarettes is fading slowly.

‘Is it weird?’

Daryl huffs out a breath of laughter as he tears his gaze away from the darkness. ‘What?’

‘Is it weird that your sister is pregnant? Like, I don’t know…. I think I’d freak out if Amaka got pregnant.’

‘No, it ain’t weird,’ Daryl says. ‘Just don’t fucking think about how that happened, I guess.’ He laughs when Taiwo groans. ‘Beth’s always been great with kids, she took care of Judith while we were at the prison, and she’s crazy about Hershel. She found a good guy. Didn’t expected it or nothing, but I ain’t surprised either. Matter of time.’

Taiwo hums. ‘It’s still kind of dangerous though, isn’t it? There was a lady at White House station about a year ago – everything had gone great, her water broke…. Shit, she was dead three hours later. Kid died, too. And they had a doctor over there. I don’t know what happened exactly but you hear those kinds of stories all the time still so –‘

‘Are you fucking kidding me right now?’

‘What?’ Taiwo frowns, ‘I’m just being realistic.’

‘You think I want to hear about my sister dying? You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.’ He turns back to the darkness outside, moodily crossing his arms. ‘Best shut the fuck up.’ He’s surprised when something big comes flying at him seconds later. He’s too late with deflecting it, though his grasping fingers grab hold of the pillow when it bounces off of him.

Taiwo smirks, ‘don’t be such a baby about it. Sulking in a corner? Grow a pair, Dixon.’

‘Wanna show you my pair,’ Daryl bounces back.

‘Seen it all before. It gets boring quick.’

Daryl looks affronted.

Taiwo laughs. ‘Come here, you’re like a gargoyle on that desk, staring out of the window like that. Oceanside is staying in a safe house, they’ll do the rest of the journey when it’s light out. Alexandria is not too far from here; they’ll show up, too.’ He holds out his hand and wriggles his fingers, ‘come to bed, man.’

Daryl rolls his eyes but slides off the table. It takes him a second to undo the laces on his army boots but he kicks them to the side of the bed. His armor lands on the floor as well before he falls down next to his boyfriend. The bed is soft and warm, though he prefers Taiwo’s bed in the train because it smells like him. He rolls over and drapes himself over his boyfriend.

Taiwo kisses his bare shoulder before tracing a lazy pattern over the scars on his back. ‘Things have been going better with Maggie? I mean, you arrived together, but I’ve not seen you exchange more than two words.’

‘Don’t got nothing to say,’ Daryl murmurs. He noses at Taiwo’s neck as he slides one of his legs between his boyfriend’s, rolling his hips slightly as his fingertips search for the bottom of the other man’s shirt. ‘Stop talking about her.’

‘You’re in a bad mood today, my God.’

‘Ain’t,’ Daryl nips at the neck, ‘different mood, is all.’

Taiwo stills his hips with a firm hand. ‘What happened between you and Jesus?’

‘Good lord, you’re gonna go down the line? Nothing happened.’

‘Stop,’ Taiwo says when Daryl kisses his jawline. ‘I’m trying to have a conversation with you.’

‘I’m tryin’ to have sex with you.’

‘Not when I’m trying to have an actual conversation,’ Taiwo orders as he pushes at his boyfriend’s shoulder so he lands back on the bed besides him. ‘Stop pouting, it’s not a cute look on you. I’ll suck you off later.’

Daryl’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Really?’

‘Keep your head in the game, Dixon,’ Taiwo laughs.

‘Fine.’ With a huff, Daryl lies down on his back to stare up at the ceiling. ‘I tried talking to him back at Hilltop, didn’t feel too good about how we’d split at Washington. Normally he stops by whenever I’m in town but he just… didn’t, so I sought him out. It didn’t go well. I don’t know what his fucking problem is. He’s all; Maggie’s sad so you should make up and not be mad anymore. It’s not that easy, you know? Ain’t like flipping a damn switch.’

‘Yeah.’

‘He said that – I didn’t go to the meeting at Hilltop, when they decided whether they would hold a meeting and help the Kingdom and them? I didn’t go. He thinks I’m setting Maggie up or something. _Punishing her,_ he said he thought I were finding ways to punish her or something.’ Daryl rolls his eyes. ‘Asshole. What does he know.’

There’s a frown that causes Taiwo’s forehead to crease. ‘Why didn’t you go to the meeting?’

‘It’s their decision. What’s the point if they’ll only do it because I’m breathing down their necks? I’m not always going to be there to glare them into making the right call.’

‘So there’s a right call then.’

Daryl looks at his boyfriend. ‘What? Of course there is. You dense all of a sudden? Helping your friends or letting them starve? Yeah, there’s a right call to be made there.’

Taiwo sucks on his teeth for a second. ‘You weren’t mad when Mason told you he’ll pull the plug on our supply line if Ezekiel doesn’t start to pay up.’

‘It’s different with Mason. He ain’t our blood.’

‘Maybe Maggie’s just trying to make decisions as a leader of her community, and not as a friend or member of your weird family tree.’ Taiwo props himself up on his elbow. ‘She did the same with you. When she decided to make that deal? She did that as the leader of Hilltop, not as your mom.’

‘Ain’t no difference,’ Daryl says with his own eyebrows now drawn together. ‘You can’t pick and choose when to be one or the other.’

‘Of course you can. Mason does that, too. What, you think he’d send us out scouting or to deal with some Xidachane if he were our guardian all the time? Shit, man. We’d be locked in our rooms, grounded for life to keep us safe. But as a leader of our community? He needs us out there. You can’t tell me Maggie wouldn’t want the same thing for you, but she knows you’ve got strengths the community needs.’

‘Whatever,’ Daryl huffs. ‘I’m done talking.’

Taiwo pulls a face. ‘Really mature of you.’

‘Maybe I’m just done with people telling me what to think or feel. I can be mad for however long I want. I don’t need to _understand_. I don’t _need_ to forgive _anyone_.’

‘How is it helping you?’ Taiwo asks. ‘How is staying mad helping you out?’

‘It’s giving me a lot more self-worth than rolling over ‘nd showing my belly.’ Daryl rolls onto his side and props his head up with his hand. ‘I went back to Hilltop, showed everyone that I’m fine so Maggie can fucking sleep at night. What more do people want? I don’t owe anyone any more than that.’

Taiwo sighs. ‘It’s just unsettling to see you two at odds with each other.’

‘Well, three guesses as to how I’m feeling because of it. I wish everyone would just leave it alone.’

‘Well, it’s what happens when you’re a prince. Everyone’s always going to stick their nose in, I guess. It was actually kind of weird, they’d first put me in one of the rooms downstairs – the shared ones? I mean, it was fine, bunch of other folks. The bed was tiny, so I joked around that you’d probably wake them up by falling out on accident. Shit, I got moved to this room once Beth confirmed that yes, I am your boyfriend.’

‘Good,’ Daryl says with a yawn, ‘those beds are shitty. They creak like all hell if you so much as breathe.’

Taiwo looks at him for a moment. ‘You don’t find it weird that they just gave us one of these rooms?’

‘It’s a guest room. We’re guests.’

‘They were fine with putting me in the other one. Amaka is sleeping down there.’

Daryl frowns, ‘well, if you wanna sleep down there, go sleep down there. I always get one of these rooms when I swing by. It’s not that big of a deal.’

His boyfriend huffs. ‘I didn’t say it was a big deal, I just think it’s weird. You said you liked being anonymous at Washington, to have a normal job, earn your way and-‘

A bitter laugh escapes the Dixon. ‘Oh, I’ve earned my way in these communities alright. Washington don’t owe me shit because I didn’t fight for you guys, didn’t have to bury my friends because of you guys, didn’t go through hell for all y’all. When I come back here? The least they can do is give me a decent bed to sleep in. Sorry if you think I ain’t _earning my way_ here, but you can suck my nuts.’

‘Later,’ Taiwo says with a yawn. ‘You’re trying to pick a fight over everything tonight. It’s exhausting, really. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my eyes open, let alone whatever you had in mind.’

‘I ain’t the one picking a fight!’

Taiwo laughs. ‘Really?’

‘You keep bringing stupid shit up.’

‘Oh,’ his boyfriend wriggles closer, burying himself in Daryl’s body heat, ‘I’m _so_ sorry.’ He takes a deep breath before letting his hands wander, ‘how will you ever forgive me?’

Daryl’s never been much of a farmer. Back at the prison, Rick had tried to rope him into helping out in the gardens, but they’d both quickly come to the realization that it wasn’t for him. Too boring and monotonous when compared to his normal hunting schedule. He hadn’t had to patience to learn about how to rotate the crops, or how to fertilize the grounds. Even Maggie had given up on trying to teach him, only using him for some extra muscle by the time the harvest came around.

Despite all that, even Daryl can tell that the fields of the sanctuary aren’t really thriving. The leaves are yellow, the ground a strange rusty color. New irrigation systems look anything but new, leaking in some places and never reaching others. There are fruits and vegetables growing but the quality is nothing like the Kingdom’s in its prime, or even Hilltop now.

Right after the war, he hadn’t cared about the struggle of the people living here. Scoffing at the notion that it was a factory with poisoned soil where nothing could grow, blaming the people for choosing to stay there and try to make it work. Only when Beth left to join their ranks, he’d paid some more attention to their needs and wants.

Beth is good, but no miracle worker. The place is changing, it feels different, but the shadow of the past is slow to retreat. Not for the first time, Daryl wonders why they hadn’t decided to level this place when they had the chance. Hilltop and the Kingdom could use the extra labor now, their grounds already perfected for agriculture, just needing the people and muscle. Instead they’re out here trying to save this damn place.

‘Hello, little prince.’ There’s a girl stepping out from between the stalks of grain with a basket on her hip. Bushy brown hair is matted near her temples due to some sweat. She reaches into the basket and holds out a shiny green apple to him. ‘Good morning.’

‘Thank you, g’morning,’ he says as he takes the apple. It’s sour as he bites into it, but he doesn’t mind much.

‘What are you doing here?’ the girl asks with a scrunched-up nose. ‘Didn’t you hear? Alexandria is on their way here.’ Brown eyes glance up at the sky to check the sun, ‘they’ll be here any moment. Their call came through earlier. They’d just crossed the borders when I went out to get these,’ she nods at the apples. ‘Beth thinks there’ll be something to celebrate after the meeting. There’s pie on the menu.’

‘Beth’s always been an optimist,’ Daryl says before he takes the basket from her with one arm. It’s heavy. He hitches it higher onto his hip while munching on his apple. ‘I got it. Lead the way. What’s your name?’

‘It’s Peyton, and thanks, but you don’t have to do that.’ She glances back at the door that leads to the main hall, ‘I’m sure Beth needs you inside, and Carl’s about to arrive. He’s your brother, right? Shouldn’t you be there?’

‘Nobody’s looking at me for nothing,’ Daryl assures her as he makes his own way over towards the kitchen area. He knows the way. ‘Trust me, Carl’s a big boy, he can climb off of his own damn horse. To be honest, I’m more interested in that pie you were talking about.’

Half an hour later he almost slices the top of his thumb off because the door opens so suddenly and with such force that it bangs against the wall behind it. Daryl looks up for a second to acknowledge Taiwo and glances over his shoulder when Peyton shrieks at the sudden noise behind her. She’s making the crust at the big table while Daryl’s sitting on the countertop, legs dangling down as he peels the last apple.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Taiwo asks.

‘Peelin’ apples.’

‘Peeling apples?’ Taiwo repeats with raised eyebrows. ‘Do you have any idea how stupid you sound? Get your ass off of that counter and into that meeting room. I can’t believe you. What, this is their call too? It’s not your job to hold them accountable? It’s pretty fucking pathetic that you’re hiding behind that _now_. _You_ called this meeting. The least you can do is help Ezekiel out – and the Sanctuary. They don’t exactly have the best negotiation position. Mason’s not going to budge just because Carl and Tara showed up – did you even know they’re here?’

‘Yeah. I do.’

‘So why are you here? Oh, you’re just the messenger now? You’re just Daryl Dixon from the trailer park, boohoo. You’re _Daryl Dixon_ , asshole! I swear to God, if you don’t get that ass into that room, I’m going to feed you to the Xidachane myself. I don’t care why you’re sulking out here. I don’t care about any of it. Get out there. _Now_.’

Daryl lifts an eyebrow. ‘You’re my mom now?’

‘Are you two years old now? Do you seriously think it was easy for Carl to walk into that room and take _his dad’s place_? He was looking for you, man!’

‘Nobody’s looking at me for nothing.’

Taiwo walks up to him. ‘I hate to break it to you, but your vacation is _over_. You had time to breathe and figure things out, but if _this_ is the decision you’ve made, you’re on your own.’

Daryl laughs. ‘What decision? Peyton needed some help. I’m helping. Weren’t that the whole foundation of that new world?’

Taiwo looks hurt but he turns on his heels and heads back towards the hallway. ‘You know what? Fine. Go fuck yourself, Dixon.’

‘What, ‘cause you ain’t doing it no more?’ Daryl calls after him, but the only response he gets is a raised middle finger and a slammed door. It takes him a couple of seconds to realize they weren’t alone in the room, before. He glances over to Peyton, who’s trying very hard to stay focused on her dough. ‘Sorry,’ Daryl says because her cheeks are red and she won’t look at him.

‘Yeah...’ Her voice is soft before she finds it again. ‘You never seemed like the kind of person who runs away and hides from their problems. I was here, years ago, when you came to stay after the war. You burned a copy of Lucille someone had made for you. _For anyone who’s confused about who the hell I am_. I remember that, but I don’t think anyone was confused when they handed you Lucille.’

‘I ain’t his no more.’

‘It wasn’t about being Negan. It was about being _in charge_.’

‘I’m not in charge of anything.’

‘Well, maybe we want you to be,’ Peyton says, voice now sharp. ‘Dwight and Beth are trying, but we’re still starving. We barely survived the winter, and summer? It’s going by quick. Everyone’s looking out for their own, but you’re _fair_.’

Daryl narrows his eyes. ‘Yeah? And what about what _I_ want?’

‘What do you want then?’ Peyton asks, ‘because we hear the stories too. You ran away, you went to Alexandria and then hid at Washington for a while. Now you’re back but peeling apples in my kitchen…. What do you want? Can we rely on you or not?’

‘Well obviously not.’

Peyton’s eyes narrow. ‘What’re you cooking up? You’re not like that.’

‘What the hell do you know?’ Daryl scoffs. ‘I’ve let them down plenty of times. Best get used to it.’ He looks down at the knife, at how the juice from the apple is slowly drying on the metal. ‘I’ve done it before. Didn’t succeed. Almost fooled them all. _Oh I wanna see Merle so bad. Oh, I’m gonna sleep easy when I’m with my blood_. Would have worked if it weren’t for Rick.’

‘What would have worked? What did you want to do?’

‘Kill Negan.’

She nods her understanding. ‘And this time?’

‘Well, turns out you can’t sneak off to kill someone when you kind of promised to help get this whole thing back on its feet.’

Peyton huffs out a breath of laughter. ‘I can imagine that that might be difficult. It sounds like a stupid plan anyway.’

Daryl raises an eyebrow, ‘I’m sorry?’

‘My mom used to tell me; focus on what you _can_ do. You can help them reshape the New World. You can’t kill Beta on your own.’ She rolls her eyes when he opens his mouth. ‘You’re the best fighter of the communities, even Jesus says so, but that guy isn’t alone, and he’s not going to fight fair. You against all of them? It’s just not going to happen. So focus on what you can do.’

‘He _will_ come back.’

Peyton shrugs, ‘and then you’ll get your chance, right?’

Daryl cocks his head to the side.

She smiles as she walks over. ‘You go out there, and I’ll deal with this mess,’ Peyton says as she takes the apple from him. ‘And don’t even pretend like you’ve got anything on lock in here, because peeling those apples? It should _not_ take that long, mister.’

Everyone’s eyes widen when he walks into the meetings room. It used to be Negan’s living room. He still remembers where the couches used to be, how he used to use the coffee table to jump onto Negan’s back to hitch a ride, where he’d sit with Frankie while she read her books whenever he needed some peace and quiet. The bar is still there but no longer in use. The windows have been cleaned recently and the door to the bedroom is open. He can see the edge of a desk, a new carpet. It’s probably an office now.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Daryl says as he walks along the round table. His hand comes to land on Carl’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. ‘I got held up.’

‘It’s no problem,’ Beth says with one of her knowing smiles as she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. Her gaze flickers to Taiwo for just a moment, who’s sitting at Mason’s left-hand side, slouched in his seat with a dark look on his face. ‘Take a seat.’

Carl’s hand folds over his for a moment.

Daryl can feel how the fingers shake as he pulls away. There are several seats left open. Some by accident or convenience, but Maggie’s right-hand side is unoccupied as well. It’s where Merle used to sit, and he takes it with a heavy heart.

‘We were just about to get started,’ Beth says as she pushes a mug towards him. ‘Carl, you wanted to say something?’

Daryl takes the mug and folds his hands around it. It’s not steaming hot anymore, but he has no doubt that it will taste great. It smells like one of Beth’s blends.

‘Oh – yeah,’ Carl fidgets with a yellowed notebook that’s in front of him. ‘I wanted to say that, err – Michonne is sorry that she couldn’t be here today, but – like, she wanted to be here but… couldn’t.’

Ezekiel frowns.

Cyndie arches her eyebrow skeptically.

‘She’s about to pop,’ Tara says as she gets up to grab a piece of warm bread from a tray on the center of the table. ‘We didn’t think it was such a good idea to make her climb up on a horse. We ran out of biofuel for the cars a while ago.’

‘Did you?’ Beth says with a small smile. ‘We can help with that.’

Tara smirks back but look at Carl.

‘Oh,’ Carl sits up slightly, ‘erh – well, that… that would be great but first –that’s important, too, but since…. Time’s like… I’m sorry,’ he drags a hand over the left side of his face.

‘We need a doctor,’ Tara says abruptly as she drapes her arm over the back of Carl’s chair before leaning towards him. ‘Relax, dude. Ask Maggie if they can spare Harlan.’

‘We can,’ Daryl says before Maggie can answer. ‘I talked to him when I came back from Alexandria, figured Michonne were further along than I thought, kinda needed a refresher course on how long that stuff takes.’ Amaka giggles from Mason’s right-hand side while Jerry tries to hide his own chuckle. ‘He said he were willing to go down to Alexandria, if she needed his help.’

‘We do need his help,’ Tara confirms.

‘We’ll send word out today, he can leave tomorrow,’ Maggie says with a firm nod. ‘The fact that you two even showed up, does that mean that Alexandria is changing its stance? Are you opening the borders again?’

‘It’s difficult,’ Tara says so Carl won’t have to answer. ‘We want to, don’t get me wrong. Of course we want to, it’s just….’

‘Michonne,’ Maggie says.

‘You can’t blame her,’ Tara says, ‘she lost so much-‘

‘We _all_ did.’

Daryl shifts in his seat, sensing an old argument rising again. ‘Thank you for coming, it means a lot,’ he tells Tara before looking at Ezekiel. ‘You wanna take it from here? Bet you got a speech ready. We could all use some motivation, man.’

Ezekiel shoots him a fond smile, ‘thank you, little prince,’ he turns to the leader of the communities, ‘my friends….’

Daryl sits back and listens. A stirring speech about their history, their hardships and victories, a bitter note about their losses. Hope, for the future. It’s fascinating to see how every community responds. Carl and Beth jump onboard right away, most emotionally invested in this concept of the new world. Maggie doesn’t lag too far behind, a bit reserved as always but not denying her sister anything when it comes to aid and offering the Kingdom the same deal. Oceanside doesn’t seem to have immediate need for trade, they’ve always been fine on their own, but the every-present looming threat of another enemy drives them into the fold. They need the protection. Mason is all business, with his lists of things he’s owed and balance sheets though Amaka softens the blow with some clever constructions where Alexandria can take some of the Kingdom’s debt and repay it with bullets.

Round and round it goes.

It surprises him how often people look his way to confirm or deny a fact. Mason isn’t sure whether Alexandria is capable of delivering on the bullets but a nod from the youngest Dixon causes him to seal the deal with a handshake. Oceanside claims not to have much to trade while Daryl knows that Alex has been hurting for some of their herbs for his experiments. Beth turns out to have a better trading position once she invites Felix to come and stay a while so he can learn how to adjust various engines so they can run on bio-fuel. The Kingdom is helped by Hilltop’s offer of labor and supplies, which goes for cheap after Maggie’s glance at her son.

‘What took you so long?’ Carl hisses when they’re standing on the landing outside during the break. His cheeks are red and it’s strange to see him without his hat. The hair is still long enough to cover most of his bandage.

‘Got side-tracked,’ Daryl mutters as he blows smoke into the air.

‘Side-tracked from the most important meeting we’ve had in ages?’

‘World don’t revolve around your ass,’ Daryl tells him with a glare. ‘And if you thought it were so important, you could have fucking organized it yourself.’

Carl folds his arms in front of his chest while leaning back against the banister. ‘What crawled up your ass and died? Everyone thought you and Taiwo just got _distracted_ , but going by the look on his face when he came back…. You didn’t, or you’re really, really bad at it, brother.’

‘Can you all just leave me the hell alone?’ Daryl hisses back before he heads down the staircase, taking it two at the time and jumping down the last five steps. He’s glad that his brother stays up there, leaving him alone to cool down for a couple of minutes. He’s not even sure what’s wrong, but his skin feels too tight and his palms itch. The smoke barely helps this time. He feels nervous, sweat’s dripping down the side of his neck and even when he just walks, it feels like he can’t quite catch his breath.

After one lap around the gardens, the feeling doesn’t disappear. He heads inside, tugging at his armor to try and get more air, fingers brushing over his necklaces. The metal feels cold and makes him sick. The world tilts in weird ways as he picks up speed, bursting into one of the side-rooms.

Mason looks up from a notebook with a frown on his face. He’s sitting on creaky chair, one leg stretched out. At first, he looks like he might send the Dixon away, he’d told everyone he needed some peace and quiet before the next round of negotiations, but he changes his mind as soon as he lays eyes on the teenager.

‘You _can_ breathe,’ he says as he stands up and walks over to the boy. ‘You’re safe, Daryl. Can I touch you?’

Daryl nods as he gasps for air.

‘It’s a panic attack,’ Mason tells him as he grabs the boy’s hand and puts it on the center of his own chest. ‘Breathe with me. In, hold it, try to hold it, and out. Good. Again.’

For the next couple of minutes, that’s all that exists. Mason’s heartbeat and rising chest under the palm of his hand until he catches his breath and his heartrate starts to slow down again. A door behind him opens.

‘Hey, Mason, I was thinking about those-‘

‘ _Leave_ , Tai.’

‘Oh, shit, is he okay? What hap-‘

‘I said: _leave_.’

The door closes softly.

‘Take your time,’ Masons says as he removes his own hand so it isn’t trapping Daryl’s anymore. ‘Catch your breath.’ When the teenager takes a deep breath and leans back on his heels, squinting up with red ears, the man grins. ‘It’s been a while since you had one of those I take it?’

Daryl nods. He slowly walks over to another chair, sitting down gingerly as he wipes the sweat from his neck. ‘Yeah. _Shit_. Thought I were dying.’

‘It tends to feel like that,’ Mason says with a non-committal shrug. He sits down as well. ‘Do you want me to get Maggie?’

‘Fuck no.’

Mason’s eyebrows rise but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead he just turns back to his work, going through the spreadsheets once more.

After a minute, Daryl gets up and awkwardly lingers between the chair and door. ‘Hey – uh… thanks.’

‘Any time,’ Masons murmurs without looking up. ‘See you in a couple of minutes.’

As soon as he steps outside, he wishes he’d taken more time behind closed doors. The rest of his family are standing near the doors to the meeting hall, chatting and laughing. Carl’s with Amaka and Cyndie, hands moving fast as he tries to make a point, while Maggie is talking to Tara in a quieter corner. Paul’s gaze finds him from where he’s talking to the King, eyes narrowed as he spots his disheveled appearance.

Taiwo’s leaning against a wall, one hand in the pocket of his jeans and the other curled around his water bottle.

Daryl walks over.

‘Here,’ Taiwo holds the water out. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Fine.’ The cap squeaks when he twists it off. The water is cold.

‘Good,’ Taiwo says as he inspects the tip of one of his boots, ‘you don’t have to have a panic attack just because I said I wouldn’t fuck you anymore.’

Daryl chokes on the water.

‘I didn’t really mean it,’ Taiwo admits, ‘though you were kind of being an asshole, but… I guess things aren’t easy for you either.’

‘Stop. I don’t know what’s wrong,’ Daryl says as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I wanted this. I want this to work, for real, but…. I just… What if it doesn’t work, what if it all falls apart? It’s all so… I don’t know what to do or – ‘ He can feel the anxiety crawling up his windpipes, making them narrower, making his chest hurt.

‘You need to calm down,’ Taiwo says firmly as he puts his hand on Daryl’s clammy neck to feel the racing heartbeat there. ‘Look at me. Everything’s going great. Everyone is here, they’re working together. We’re going to sit around for another hour or so and then sneak off. Bet Carl will let me use his horse, we can go for a ride before dinner, get you out of your head for a while.’

Daryl nods.

Taiwo grabs the loops of his belt and tugs him closer, ‘and at dinner, we’re going to _harass_ Sam. It’s not fair that he’s just getting away with all this. I’m not as intimidating as Merle _Are you the one who’s screwing my baby brother_?! Dixon, but I can try. We don’t even know his favorite kind of music.’

Daryl laughs softly. ‘That’s important, is it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sure, we’ll ask him at dinner.’ He’s glad that Taiwo doesn’t mind that he holds his hand tightly, and nobody seems surprised when he moves his chair over to Washington’s side of the table. Hardly anyone even notices, eyes always roaming the communities when trying to locate him, never sure with who he’ll sit this time.

Taiwo’s distracted easily, always leaning over to whisper a comment in his ear to try and make him snigger or blush. Going by Amaka’s frustrated huff on the other side of Mason, it’s common practice.

Halfway through the meeting, Maggie gets up to refill the big water carafe. She passes him and puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it for just a moment. Daryl turns his head to kiss the back of her hand before laughing at something Taiwo says under his breath about how his own taste in music leave so much to be desired.

Hours later, ink is drying on a new agreement.

And Eshu has no problem overtaking Taiwo on Carl’s horse as they race through the fields while the sun sets behind them.


	15. Promises

* * *

‘Want to play one-two-three?’

Carl laughs at the mention of their old game. He’s on the bed, hair wild from having just been woken up by his brother, chest bare and bandage tossed towards the trashcan near the door. One hand swipes the long hair back to reveal the terrible scar that’s as red and angry as the day he’d gotten it. The one on his side has healed nicely thanks to Hershel’s care, distorted now that he has grown, bigger but also fainter. Time has done nothing to the gaping hole in his face, though it has allowed acceptance to seep into his brother’s mind and soul.

Daryl smiles from where he’s perched on Carl’s desk with his sketchbook. A red pencil tucked behind his ear, a black one sketching out quick lines that will only resemble his brother in hours time.

‘No. You’re a sore loser,’ Carl mutters.

‘Yeah,’ the Dixon says because it’s true. ‘That’s why I liked that game, weren’t ever my fault we never landed on the same word. Your brain’s funky.’

‘ _Funky_.’

‘I’m trying to be nice.’

‘Well,’ Carl stretches, ‘there’s a first time for everything, I guess.’ He huffs out a breath of laughter when he sees the annoyed look on his brother’s face. ‘You’re so easily pissed off.’

‘Yeah, wonder why,’ Daryl says as he puts the notebook aside and walks over to the bed. It bounces when he lets himself fall onto the mattress. He aims a light kick at Carl’s legs. ‘Get your smelly feet off of Tai’s side, man.’

Carl sits up against the headrest, legs now folded under him and on Daryl’s side of the bed. He hugs his brother’s pillow and plucks at some loose threads before he speaks. ‘What happened yesterday? You didn’t come to see me, you were late…. Tai looked like he was going to murder anyone who tried to talk to you after the meeting. Guess you guys made up?’

‘Yup.’ Daryl lets the P pop while he stares at the ceiling, making it clear that he’s not going to elaborate on the subject.

‘I just don’t understand,’ Carl says. ‘You’re the one who dragged us out from behind our walls by ours ears, talking about working together… the New World.’

‘Got you here,’ Daryl says as he closes his eyes. ‘That’s my job done.’

‘What are you – we can’t do this without you.’ His brother sounds incredulous.

With a groan, Daryl turns around and scoots closer. One arm over Carl’s middle, his face pressed into the gap between Carl’s hip and the mattress. It’s dark and the sheets are cool against his face but he can still feel his brother’s body warmth. Everything is quiet for a couple of seconds until he feels a hesitant touch between his shoulder blades as Carl’s hand comes to rest there.

‘Is it this place?’ Carl asks quietly. ‘Or is it everything?’

‘I don’t know,’ Daryl mutters, voice barely more than a rumble now that it’s so muffled. He tightens his hold on his brother’s waist. ‘Did you have to sneak out or did ‘chonne let you go?’

‘She let us go, but she wasn’t too happy about it. Enid wanted to come too, she misses you ‘nd Maggie, but she’s the closest thing we’ve got to a doctor now. I think Michonne really wants this to work, you know. No, I do,’ Carl insists when he hears the Dixon huff beside him. ‘It was dad’s dream; the communities working together like that. Maybe if the little one’s is born, she’ll be too busy to be so overprotective of me. I know she closed the borders to protect Judy and me. I’m not saying it was the right thing to do, but I do understand.’

Daryl turns around and rubs at his eyes. ‘Everyone understands. Don’t make it right.’

‘Yeah, but things are getting better now. We all make mistakes,’ Carl sinks down so he’s closer to Daryl’s level. ‘We can really make a difference now, Dare. We need to get this off the ground now that we’ve got some momentum. Open the borders back up, get the trade-deals going, reinstate the routes and checkpoints.’

Daryl watches his brother’s face.

‘Tara’s here because she believes in it. Rosita’s game and she’ll convince Eugene to help the Kingdom. We can secure the roads around Alexandria, maybe even fix the bridges.’ Carl seems excited. ‘We can show Michonne that it works, that we’re safer together. Come on, I know we can do it, but I need your help.’

Daryl shrugs. ‘Sounds like you got the people, got a plan. The fuck do you need me for?’

‘Are you fishing for compliments now? You don’t need me to spell it out for you.’ The excitement fades slowly as Carl gets settled, his bare shoulder pressing against Daryl’s. It reminds them both of all those nights spent on the bottom bunk, huddled under their sheets while reading their comics. ‘I just hope it all works out,’ Carl says and his voice sounds small. ‘I don’t want to let him down.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘Rick ain’t ever been disappointed in you, he ain’t gonna start now.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘Know a thing or two about being a disappointment,’ Daryl says and he tries to laugh it off but it sounds fake and forced when Carl looks at him. ‘C’mon, you think Will would have me as a son still? Merle might have made peace with it all, but he sure as hell wouldn’t have. _Best not be what it looks like, boy_. Pfft.’

‘You still wear his ring.’

Daryl stretches and yawns, letting his head fall to his brother’s shoulder. ‘Would give ‘n arm ‘nd leg for him to beat me silly.’

‘Don’t…’

‘Don’t have to make sense to you.’ Daryl resists the urge to gnaw on his knuckles. ‘I dreamt that I saw him, when Beta fell down that…. When I were dying, I dreamed about him. We talked, I think – I just remember him choking me out while telling me how much he loved me.’

Carl looks at him.

‘Shane was happy to see me though,’ Daryl says with a laugh. ‘We were in the prison, death row. He came to find me.’

‘I’m glad you got to see him, even if it wasn’t real.’

Daryl turns so he’s on his side and can see Carl’s face properly. The horrid scar that he barely notices anymore these days, the couple of scattered hairs on his cheeks and chin that make him laugh every time. The same blue eyes as his dad. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t around after what happened to your dad, man. Could have tried harder.’

‘Me too, man. I just… I couldn’t… Didn’t talk to anyone, just worked in the gardens. I would get so angry when Judith would hide out and cry in your room. Michonne told me to leave her be, but…’ he shakes his head, ‘I just wanted to fight with someone. Everything made me mad.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I fought a lot with Michonne, too. Over stupid stuff… over all of this. I think we both just gave up when you ran away, she knew I’d go after you, was no point in trying to keep me inside.’ Carl laughs, ‘you were really surprised I was there!’

‘I was,’ Daryl admits with a laugh. ‘I don’t know why, but I still always expect you to follow the rules. Like, it’s dumb but whenever I think about you – that image still pops up in my head, you know? You were that fucking kid who was doing their homework when the world ended.’

Carl laughs. ‘ _That’s_ what you think about?’

‘Yeah! One of the first things, man,’ Daryl laughs, one hand covering the left part of his face in embarrassment. ‘What? Stop. _Stop_. What do you think about with me then?’ As soon as the question leaves his lips, it feels like he’s dumped into an ice bath. The laughter freezes in his lungs. It’s a familiar feeling by now; the inability to breathe.

Images flash before his eyes, all the possible answers Carl could give. Him, bloody and bruised, hobbling back towards the camp after one of Will’s lessons. Knuckles split open from trying to make Randall talk. Sitting shell-shocked on his bunkbed after coming back from Woodbury, hands shaking after pulling the trigger so many times. Face covered with Gareth’s blood. Murdering those saviors asleep in their outpost, the ones out on that backroad, the convoy they took out together. Almost dying, trashing while Enid tried to hold him down and stop the bleeding. Him walking forwards and picking up Rick’s-

‘I don’t know,’ Carl muses with a thoughtful look on his face. ‘Maybe that night of the fair, when Taiwo come up to sit at our table? It’s pretty rare we’re all together like that, and I know you like that best, so maybe that? Or whenever you’re drawing, I guess. It’s kind of weird, because I usually think of other people with you.’

‘What?’

‘Like how Shane would wait for you at the gate, or that Hershel likes to sit on your shoulders – stupid stuff. You ‘nd Maggie, of course, it’s just such a given you’re together.’ Carl glances at him like he’s not sure how he’ll react. ‘Damn. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Sorry.’

Daryl sits up and shakes his head. ‘No, it’s – I thought you were going to say something else, that’s… that makes sense, I guess.’ He gets up, walks back over to the desk and leaves though his notebook. A hundred parts of him in black and white. ‘You really think we can pull this off?’

Carl sits up, too. ‘ _Yes_.’

The Dixon nods absent-mindedly as he stops on an old sketch. It’s Judith as a baby on Rick’s chest, one of his broad, scarred hands on the little girl’s back. Rick’s eyes are closed, he was probably asleep. Deep lines in his face, stained by blood or shadows, he can’t quite remember. Maybe it’s back in the prison, or maybe in that barn, or their first night at Alexandria. It doesn’t really matter, he supposes.

‘Okay,’ he says softly.

‘What?’

‘I said: okay.’

A week later, the gates of Alexandria part as soon as the sound of the roaring engine registers. He doesn’t need to radio in, just zips past the guards with a raised hand in thanks, pleased to know that they were already expecting him. It means that the checkpoints have been reinstated, though he has taken a short-cut. Someone radioed that they’d heard his bike at least. Soon they’ll control all major crossroads again and he won’t be able to go into anyone’s territory unseen.

The door to the infirmary opens when he comes to a stop in front of it. He kicks the stand out and pulls his bandana down to smile at Enid, who looks thrilled to see him. Or rather, the backpack that he’s carrying.

‘You found it?’

‘Sure did,’ Daryl says as he holds the backpack out to her. ‘Won’t be as strong as before, but the doctors said it should still help with his asthma.’

She takes the bag and then surges forward to hug him tightly. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’m just the messenger,’ Daryl laughs once she lets go of him. He swings his leg over and hops off the engine. ’How’s Michonne doing?’

Enid rolls her eyes and shakes her head before leading him into the infirmary. It pleases him that most beds are empty. Clean sheets are stacked on the furthest one, in case they’re needed after all. The windows are open but it’s still warm inside. The temperature increases when they walk upstairs. There are private rooms here, for people who have to stay a while longer.

He’s waved into the first one.

Michonne is sitting up against the headboard, one arm around her swollen belly, fingers caressing the skin through the blankets. She’s holding up one side of a big technical drawing, eyebrows drawn together as her dark eyes scan the lines carefully.

‘Pretty sure that bedrest means that you need to _rest_ ,’ Daryl says with a smug smile as he leans against the doorpost with his bare shoulder.

She lowers the drawing and seems truly happy to see him. ‘I’m not even doing any work,’ she says with an amazed, little smile. ‘I’m watching from the sidelines. I don’t know what happened during those meetings, but Carl’s _on fire_.’

Daryl grins.

‘And so are you,’ Michonne gives him a pointed look and then pats the mattress next to her. ‘Come here. Did you just come back from Hilltop?’

‘No, the Kingdom – well, the safe house near the city, actually. A package came in for Enid, figured it were those meds John needs, so I stopped by to get it. I had a letter for Mason, anyway. I stopped by Hilltop though, earlier. Switched Eshu for the bike, she needed a break.’ He sits down on the bed, heavy boots gently kicking against the metal poles. ‘The Kingdom was really grateful for the building supplies.’

‘All Carl,’ Michonne says while she looks at the drawing. ‘Others are starting, too,’ she nods to the schematics. ‘It’s the bridge. Someone dropped it off this morning, drew it overnight.’

Daryl stretches, ‘well, it would save a shit-ton of time.’

‘Yes. It would. For _everyone_.’ He can still hear the hint of objection in her voice but is pleased that she smiles when she turns to him. ‘He’s been happier. I’m thankful for that.’

Daryl nods.

‘He said you were having a hard time at the Sanctuary.’

‘Ain’t nothing,’ Daryl mutters as he scoots a bit closer to her and nods at her belly, ‘can I…?’

She reaches out and guides his hand to her belly. ‘They’re not moving right now.’

‘Good,’ Daryl leans forward, ‘stay where you are for another week,’ he tells her belly. ‘No matter what your sister says. She’s just impatient to meet you. We all are, but just… stay there a while longer, ‘ kay?’

‘Hopefully they’ll listen to you,’ Michonne says with a soft laugh. ‘One week, but _not_ _a moment_ longer, you hear me, little one?’ She turns her head slightly. ‘Speaking of little ones…’

The door is bashed open downstairs, light footsteps on the staircase and then Judith appears in the doorway. Wearing dirty boots, jeans that are a size too big, a checked shirt. Most of her dark-brown hair has escaped from her braid. It sticks in all directions, with only the top flattened by the sheriff’s hat. Little hands in her sides as she scowls at her older brother.

‘You’re on the _bike_!’

‘Hello, Asskicker,’ Daryl laughs at the sight of her. Fierce, reminding him so much of Lori.

‘But you promised I could ride Eshu! You _promised_!’

‘And next time I’m here with her, we’ll do a lap, good lord, girl.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘It’s nice to see you too, by the way. You’ve got plenty of horses here, ask if Tara will take you for a ride on one.’

‘It’s not the same!’ Judith says, voice shrill and eyes small with anger.

‘Eshu was tired. Next time,’ Daryl says with a dismissive wave of his hand in her general direction. ‘Hey,’ he says as he eyes the drawings, ‘want me to take those to Aaron? He’s got some people who worked on our expansion, maybe they can have a look at that. See if it’s sound, or…’

‘ _But I wanted to ride now_!’

Daryl’s eyebrows shoot up as he turns back around to look at his sister.

‘Judith,’ Michonne scolds. She tries to sit up straighter but the sketches almost tumble down the bed when she moves. ‘Don’t – oh, Dare, grab those-‘

‘ _I hate you_!’ Judith screams before stomping down the staircase and slamming the door behind her.

Michonne groans.

‘Good lord,’ Daryl mutters as he gathers the sketches. ‘She really honoring her nickname, ain’t she? I was talking to Rosita at the checkpoint with Oceanside the other day, it’s been a while since I’ve heard her so fired up. Did wonders for my Spanish lessons. What had Judith called her again?’

‘Don’t,’ Michonne says with a deep sigh, one hand on her belly and the other covering her eyes. Then she braces herself on the bedframe, ‘help me up.’

‘And get castrated by Enid? No thanks,’ Daryl says as he gently pushes her back down. ‘I’ll deal with the little princes, I’m heading out anyway. Can I take these?’ he gestures with the plans. ‘Thanks. Have Tara radio me when the little one’s on their way, okay?’

‘Yeah – Dare? I… thank you, for everything, and I just… I wanted to say that you look – you look good.’

It doesn’t take him long to find Judith. The house is quiet and seemingly abandoned when he enters it. There’s no point in trying to mask his footsteps on the staircase so he thunders up, taking it two at the time before heading into her bedroom. It surprises him that it’s empty. There are some drawings pinned to the wall, flowers and butterflies, a little house with a sun looking down on it. Toys have been kicked into corners, the bed is unmade but laundry has been folded on top of the messy sheets.

He closes the door behind him and heads to his own room. With a sigh, he opens the door to his closet.

Judith glares at his knees. She’s sitting on the floor, her own knees drawn to her chest and arms around them.

‘You had a lot to say earlier,’ Daryl says as he sits down on his bed. ‘It wasn’t very nice.’

Judith huffs.

‘I used to do that a lot, too,’ the Dixon says. ‘Shane always said; use your words. You remember Shane, right?’

‘Your dad,’ Judith mutters even though she only knows him from the pictures and stories.

‘Yeah. He always wanted me to use my words, think he kinda regretted that later on. I was a bit older than you, used a lot of nasty ones when I were angry. I’d feel kinda bad about it later because I never really meant it… didn’t help neither,’ he says while screwing up his nose, ‘was never what I were really mad about.’

‘Yeah…’

‘You do that, too?’ Daryl asks. ‘Or were you really mad about Eshu?’

Judith shrugs and tries to hide behind her legs. ‘A bit.’

‘Okay. Gonna tell me what’s really wrong then?’

The little girl gives another huff out of frustration, but when she looks up, her eyes are shimmering with tears. ‘Carl thinks mom’s going to die.’

Daryl’s eyebrows shoot up, ‘what?’

‘’s what he said,’ Judith says, voice thin. ‘I couldn’t sleep and he was downstairs with Enid, and – he said….’ She hiccups as she starts to cry, ‘he said that if he wasn’t back yet and something ha-happened, Enid should…. Should…. With her knife and – it sh-should be someone who loves you and – and-‘

Daryl closes his eyes for a moment before getting up and sitting down in front of the door opening. ‘C’m here, Jude,’ he holds her tightly while she cries into his chest. Broken sobs about how she doesn’t want Michonne to die, doesn’t want Carl to leave anymore, doesn’t want Enid to do what she would have to do. Pleas that Michonne would never hurt them, would never turn, that they wouldn’t have to do anything. He shushes her gently, taking the big sheriff’s hat off to stroke her long hair.

It takes her several minutes to calm down enough for them to talk.

‘Sorry you heard that conversation,’ Daryl murmurs into her hair. ‘Ain’t nothing you should be thinking about. We brought Harlan here, he’ll take care of mom, okay? Him and Enid. Carl’s just… Carl’s just making sure that, y’know, if something does happen – it won’t! but just in case – that someone will, y’know…. Know what to do and…’ He curses himself softly when Judith clings tighter to him. ‘Listen. I know this is hard to hear, right? But we need to make those plans with each other. Back at the prison, everyone who was there made a deal; we don’t let each other turn. Everyone will, Jude. _Everyone_ , don’t matter how good they are, who they are, and we’ve got to be ready, just in case. You understand, right?’

Judith nods against his chest.

‘Good,’ he hugs her tighter and holds her until the soft sobs die out.

It’s late in the afternoon when he parks his bike in the garage and makes his way down the steep stairs to enter the metro platform in Washington. His heart still feels heavy after his talk with Judith but he’s glad that she’d smiled by the time they said goodbye. His thoughts go out to all the kids now growing up in this new world. He’d thought it would be easier for them, born in this new society and never knowing anything else, but things like this will never be easy.

It feels strange to hear the laughter on the station. That people call out his name and ask him about the latest trade-deals, that Felix cracks a joke when they pass each other. He forces a laugh, claps their hands together and remembers too late to ask where Taiwo is. The other man is already on top of the stairs to the shower by the time he recalls it, but he just heads down the platform towards the train in the hope to find him there.

Soft music spilling from the last train car tells him it was a good guess. Amaka is sitting on the floor in front of a mirror while re-braiding parts of her hair. A couple of small hair-ties are between her lips so she just hums to something Taiwo has just said.

The other twin is sitting on his bed while tying the laces of his boots. The natural curls are a soft halo around his head, hiding most of his expression until he looks up at the sound of footsteps outside of their door.

‘Hey!’ He sounds surprised, ‘what are you doing here? I thought you were staying at Hilltop?’

‘Felt like coming here instead,’ Daryl says as he walks over and pecks him on the lips before throwing his backpack into a corner. ‘Hey ‘maka.’

Taiwo looks suspicious but Amaka beams at him via the mirror. ‘You’ve got some excellent timing, Dixon. What?’ she asks when her brother shoots her a look, ‘ahw, come on, you’re not staying here now, are you? Just come. It’ll be fun!’

‘What’s going on?’

Taiwo rolls his eyes. ‘Some people found this place, and there’s going to be a party. It’s going to be stupid, we can stay here. It’s not that big of a deal. What happened at Alexandria? You look a bit… off.’

‘I’m fine,’ Daryl says as he wrinkles his nose, ‘a party? What kind of party?’

‘Just a party,’ Amaka grins. ‘What, you’ve never been to a party before?’

‘Been to the fair….’

Amaka’s mouth falls open. ‘Okay,’ she decides, ‘he’s coming, Tai. It’s difficult to find a good place, and to keep Mason and all of them out of it, but they found a _perfect_ spot. Everyone’s coming, from every station. I mean everyone _our age_.’

‘Oh.’ Daryl gnaws on his thumb. Only now does he notice that Tawo’s not wearing his usual set of clothes. Instead of some dirty jeans and a dark shirt, he’s wearing a nice pair of jeans and a white button up shirt. The sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone. The sheath for his dao is clipped to his belt, though the sword itself is near the door. ‘You – err… you look good. So, you were going?’

‘Amaka made me,’ Taiwo says with a small grin. ‘Felix and them are coming, too. We need to be back before curfew though. If we just sneak out, Mason will think we’re in the house above. He won’t notice that we’ll be gone. But like I said, we can stay here, if you want.’

‘I… I don’t have anything to wear,’ Daryl says. He laughs at how ridiculous that statement sounds. It’s been a long time since he’s had to worry about stuff like that.

‘Borrow something from Tai, he’s got plenty of shirts. Though you could just wear your armor,’ Amaka says. ‘You look good. What?’ she asks when her brother glares at her, ‘he always does. Jesus, is that why you don’t want to go all of a sudden? Because everyone will be drooling over your boyfriend? Aah, poor Taitai.’

Daryl can feel the blush flaming on his face.

‘Don’t be such a dick,’ Taiwo mutters as he walks over to the closet. ‘You can borrow something, I think we’ve got the same size, pretty much.’

Amaka snorts. ‘Find something to fit those biceps.’

‘Maka!’ Taiwo throws a shirt at his twin, ‘ _shut up_. You always turn into such an asshole when these parties happen, God.’

‘Other people?’ Amaka holds her arms out and lets her head hang back in ecstasy. ‘Not having to talk to just you boys? Vera and I getting to spend some time with people we _don’t_ see every single day? _Dancing_? I _can’t_ _wait_!’

Daryl’s eyes widen as he looks at Taiwo. ‘ _Dancing_?’


	16. 'Twas the night before...

* * *

The collar of his borrowed shirt scratches his throat every time he turns to look left or right. It’s been a long time since he has been this dressed up. A black button-up shirt, rolled up to his elbows because that’s how Taiwo wears his, and a light pair of jeans that Hakeem shoved into his hands earlier. Vera keeps bugging him that he needs to undo another button of his shirt so people can see the beginning swirls of his tattoo, but he likes to keep that covered. He still wears both of his knives and a gun, but Taiwo has promised that it would be safe enough to leave his crossbow behind.

It doesn’t feel that safe now that they’re crossing the streets of Washington to get to their destination. Amaka leads the way as always, with Taiwo covering her six as they run from alleyway to alleyway.

‘Nothing as glamorous as hiding behind a trashcan on the way to a party,’ Felix says softly as they press up against a wall while Amaka scouts ahead. ‘I’ve got to warn you though, watch what they pour. White house usually got the good stuff, but the guys from Shady? Well, the name says it all.’

Daryl frowns, ‘there’s a station called _Shady_?’

‘Their line ends there,’ Felix grins. ‘Don’t call them that to their face though. The first time we went to one of those parties? They kept giving Hakeem these drinks and… well, we got comfortable next to a trashcan on the way back, let me tell you. What?’ He looks at Hakeem, who’s on the other side of alleyway, and reads the signs. ‘ _Me_? No, _you_ were sick. See? You don’t even remember. Shame on you, Hakeem. Oh – let’s go!’ He pushes past Daryl to follow Amaka to the next block.

Daryl looks at Hakeem’s hands. ‘Yeah – what an asshole.’ They both follow the blond man, laughing to themselves until a growl from their right disturbs the silence of the city around them. Daryl’s hand moves to his knife as he steps forward but his eye goes to Felix, who instinctively backs up, pale and mouth slightly open but thankfully staying quiet.

Taiwo walks to his best friend and gently nudges him to the left, ‘stay with Daryl,’ he says before heading down the street. The dao is unsheathed in a silent, smooth move. The steel reflects the fading sunlight, hardly makes a sound even when cutting through the softened tissue. A dull thud of the body collapsing. Taiwo’s returning footsteps.

‘ _Tai!_ ’ Amaka looks shocked. ‘You’re wearing _a white shirt_! Let Daryl deal with it!’

Taiwo rolls his eyes and sheaths his sword.

‘ _Stay with Daryl_? _I_ could have taken care of it!’ Felix frowns and folds his arms in front of his chest. ‘ _I_ am covering our right. I’ve got my knife!’

Daryl claps him on the shoulder to pull him closer. ‘Don’t rob me of seeing him wield that sword, man,’ he laughs. ‘Shut the fuck up. C’mon, let’s get off the road.’

Two more blocks and then Amaka slips inside one of the buildings with a big grin on her face. There’s a strange, long hallway. It’s dark. Black paint has started to chip off the walls. Every couple of feet, there’s a new poster framed on the wall. Silhouettes of people, neon lights, dates and themes that have started of fade slightly over the years. Some have a sticker ‘SOLD OUT’ over them.

Amaka knocks on two doors at the end of the hallway. They open after a couple of seconds to reveal a big hall. Still dark, but brighter thanks to one lamp still working. Daryl’s so caught off guard by the fact that there’s electricity, that he almost doesn’t notice two people lounging on a long table near the doors.

‘You can hang your coat for five dollars,’ a girl says as she twirls a strand of blond hair around her long fingers. ‘Promise we won’t steal them. Entrance is twenty dollars.’

Amaka squeals and runs over, tugging the girl off the table before hugging her tightly. ‘Vickie! Oh my God, it’s so good to see you!’

Felix turns to the boy who’s leaning against the wall right next to the table. ‘Is the grid holding up?’

The boy nods to the lamp, ‘they’re still on, so I guess. Had some trouble starting it up, you gave us an old generator, dude.’

‘Yeah,’ Felix laughs, ‘you think Mo won’t notice when one of his new ones goes missing all of a sudden? I had to fix one up. What does it matter? It works. I need you to be _a little less_ enthusiastic about it though. This is just too much. ‘

The boy sighs. ‘Russell says we have to stay out here all night, so we won’t even get to go to the party.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Everyone has to pitch in for this thing,’ the boy says with a shrug. ‘We are supposed to handle security. It’s not so bad, the others have to sit outside. Sun’s going down soon, that’s messed up. Gets cold, man, so I’m glad we have to sit out here at least.’

Felix looks at his best friend. ‘Two nightshifts that Russell is inside, partying. God, he’s such a waste of space. I’m so glad we don’t have to deal with that asshole anymore. What did you ever like about-‘

Taiwo stomps him between his ribs. ‘Shut up.’

‘Sorry,’ the blond moans as he folds his hand over his ribs and dramatically stumbles towards the big double doors on the other side of the hall. Half-way there, he starts skipping and then jumping, coming down hard on the push-bar which flings one door open.

Pounding music comes spilling out, which makes Daryl realize that the room on the other side is sound-proof. Lights flash, he can barely make out how many people are jumping and dancing in the middle of the room. Hakeem quickly joins his friend, jumping on Felix’s back as they head into the room and Amaka tugs Vera along to follow them.

‘You’ve got to hurry it up,’ the boy mutters as he looks at the crowd with longing before glancing at Taiwo and Daryl, ‘we need to close the door. It’ll draw them in.’

‘Means you’ll have something to do,’ Taiwo says over his shoulder, ‘looks like we’re the last ones to get here.’ He holds the door open for Daryl, putting a hand on his lower back to gently urge him into the bigger room.

He’s never heard music this loud. It feels like the floor is shaking, he can feel it competing with his own heartbeat inside his chest and head. The tune in unfamiliar, just an assault of noise, a beat that causes others to jump and raise their hands. They’re shadows, faces only lit up for a second when one of the beams flashes by. Felix and Hakeem have disappeared and he’s not sure whether the person right in front of him is Vera or not.

Taiwo grabs hold of his hand as the door falls closed behind them. ‘Here,’ he tugs him along the wall. His eyes slowly get used to the flashing lights but the beat inside his chest makes him slightly nauseous. They push past a small group of people. Some reach out to try and grab hold of Taiwo’s shoulder, try to haul him in for a hug or to get in the middle of their huddle, but the man presses on while shouting something over the music.

Daryl’s just focuses on their hands, holding on tightly and following wherever Taiwo leads. After several moments, another door closes behind them and the noise is instantly lowered to a more acceptable level.

Taiwo laughs at the relief on his face. ‘Sorry, you’ve got to get used to it, then it’ll be more fun. I figured you might be more at ease here.’

‘A glass cage?’ Daryl asks as he looks around. There are two standing tables and a long bench on one side of the room, two walls entirely made of glass. They can look out at the party, though it seems slightly distorted. ‘Thanks.’

‘It used to be the smoker’s lounge. You weren’t allowed to smoke in these places,’ Taiwo says when his boyfriend screws up his nose in confusion.

‘Shit,’ Daryl says softly as he looks around, ‘didn’t have nothing like this back home. Some run-down bar with a jukebox that hardly ever worked. Didn’t have no _smoker’s lounge_ , that’s for sure.’ He huffs out a breath of laughter, ‘are they going to put you in charge of the music? Or is this like… do they play this kind of music in these places?’

‘Yeah, pretty much.’

‘I like yours better, I think.’

Taiwo smiles, ‘me too, but this isn’t bad either once you’re on the dance floor. Don’t look so scared,’ he laughs, ‘you’ll get used to it.’

‘Not fucking likely,’ Daryl mutters as he shakes a cigarette out of his package and lights it, inhaling sharply as he surveys the room again. ‘What? It’s what the room is for, right? So all them people,’ he waves at the small crowd, ‘they’re from all over?’

‘Yeah, every station... at least – everyone’s invited, and Benny said we were the last to arrive so… yeah.’

‘And this Russell guy? Some ex-boyfriend? You said you’d done this before with some guy,’ he motions between the two of them when his boyfriend’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Never mentioned his name though.’

Taiwo sits down on the bench. ‘Oh – ehh… yeah. No, didn’t think it really matters what he’s called.’

Daryl nods and blows the smoke towards the ceiling. ‘Why did you break up?’

‘Because it wasn’t really like this at all,’ Taiwo motions between them just like Daryl had done and then laughs. ‘A relationship. I wanted it to be, but he didn’t want anyone to know about us. I got tired of sneaking around, always being kicked out before breakfast. Some people still… Hakeem calls it old thoughts, that they have old thoughts about things. I heard Russell talk about people like me one time… He said he had to, to keep up appearances and stuff, but….’ Taiwo shrugs.

‘People like you?’

‘Gay people? I’m gay, Daryl.’

Daryl takes a last drag of his cigarette, ‘thank fuck for that. Sounds like the crew didn’t like him neither.’

‘No. I was kind of holding onto it – oh, he’ll change his mind some day, he loves me secretly, he didn’t really mean it… all of that. It took a goddamn intervention to make me see what was really going on.’ Taiwo shakes his head and stretches, ‘stupid.’

Daryl hums as he puts his cigarette out in a dusty ashtray. ‘Happens.’

‘Yeah.’ Taiwo gets up. ‘Ready to give it a try out there?’

‘I guess….’ He brings his hand up so chew on his knuckle for a moment, just long enough for Taiwo to reach for the door. His own hand shoots out to stop his boyfriend, ‘just… Felix said people were bringing drinks and… People are different when– I don’t…. They get, like, loud ‘nd…’

‘They can’t get any louder than that,’ Taiwo jokes with a nod to the club.

‘Yeah – no, just… do you drink?’

‘Of course not,’ Taiwo frowns. ‘What if something happens on the way back? Me and Amaka never drink at these things, we’ve got to make sure the rest gets home safely. Hakeem doesn’t drink either, he hates the taste of alcohol. Felix keeps trying to find him a drink he likes though, but no luck so far, so I doubt we’ll have to carry him home tonight. Felix and Vera are a different story all together. I can’t promise anything about them. You just never know. Last time – it was a long time ago, Amaka kissed some guy and Felix just _drowned_ himself. It was pretty pathetic.’

Daryl snorts. ‘So that was the cause of the trashcan-hugging afterwards? He tried to put that on Hakeem.’

‘Bet that sounded believable,’ Taiwo says with an eye-roll. ‘Oh, and – see those two green lights there? The ones that don’t flicker? Those are the emergency exits. They lead out into some side streets. If something happens and we get separated? Just follow anyone down into the tunnels and get to a station, I’ll find you. But if you want to step outside if it gets a bit much – those are the exits. Just try to give Amaka or me a heads up, or come back here. Yeah?’

Daryl nods, ‘yeah. Thanks.’

‘Okay, let’s go.’

The music thumps inside his chest. He thinks he can even feel the floor vibrating through his heavy army boots while they make their way towards the dancefloor. Shadows and silhouettes surround them. Sometimes the lights flash over faces, over hands raised in the air, over swaying hips. Taiwo greets people but Daryl can barely make out who he’s talking to. He tries to smile but is glad when they move on quickly.

It’s hot here, probably because there’s not enough power for air conditioning and the doors have to be kept closed. The collar of his shirt scratches at his neck, and he’s glad that he has left his armor home. It’s strange that he sees glimpses of knives on the dancing people they pass. Stuck in sheaths or inside boots, strange, but it makes him feel more at ease at the same time.

A small cheer is heard when Taiwo pushes him into a small circle where he finally recognizes the faces. The noise is mostly lost but Felix and Hakeem jump up and down to the beat while Vera laughs. Amaka smiles before taking a sip from her own water bottle.

‘I’ll get us something to drink,’ Taiwo shouts in his ear.

Daryl wants to protest, want to say that he’ll tag along, but his boyfriend is gone before he can grab his wrist. The rest of the group are dancing. Felix’s feet shuffle and his hips move, one hand raised while the other keeps his drink steady. Hakeem matches him, moves his feet a bit more to claim some space, and Amaka dips low when the singer calls out for it. Everywhere else, people are dancing together. He sees guys and girls close together, hands on hips and shoulders, bodies so close together that they almost move as one.

Suddenly, there are two hands on his own shoulders. He instinctively takes a step back.

Amaka laughs and pulls him back, ‘relax,’ she shouts at him, smile warm and eyes twinkling. ‘Look at my feet!’

He looks down.

‘Do what I do!’

After a couple of clumsy attempt, he finally starts to get it. It doesn’t really matter that Amaka keeps laughing at him, putting her hands on his hips to show that _that’s_ the part he should be moving too after he’d looked at her sheepishly at her instructions. They don’t bump into each other anymore but move more fluently to the beat that’s pounding around them.

Suddenly, he feels someone come up behind him. He wants to step aside to let them through, but a hand curls around his hipbone to keep him in place.

‘Hey,’ Taiwo grins against his ear, ‘got us some water – we can share.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl feels kind of stupid that he’s not sure what to do now, ‘sure.’ He glances around the room. ‘People are lookin’.’

‘It’s _Daryl Dixon from Alexandria_ ,’ Taiwo forces him to turn around but pulls him close immediately, nose to nose and both grinning. One wide and predatory, the other shy. ‘Of course they’re watching.’

‘Pretty sure they’re staring at you, wondering what the hell you’re doing with that idiot who can’t dance.’

‘Oh, I’m sure they’re wondering what we get up to,’ Taiwo agrees, eyebrows wriggling suggestively. ‘Fuck ‘em, only the fun ones will grow some balls and eventually come over to talk, so until then… let’s just have some fun. Nobody knows how to dance here, we all taught ourselves, and now we’ll teach you. No big deal.’

‘No big deal,’ Daryl repeats with a nod, too soft to be understandable due to the music, but Taiwo gets it anyway.

Everything gets easier when he starts to relax. Amaka and Taiwo teach him how to dance, Felix keeps telling him all kinds of gossip about the other teenagers around them and Hakeem hangs with him in the smoker’s lounge whenever he needs a break. They laugh and dance, shout in each-others ears and learn new songs.

Eventually, people start to drift over. Friends from other station who draw Taiwo in a hug before shaking Daryl’s hand. He doesn’t catch all their names, but they seem friendly enough. Vera and Amaka disappear with some girlfriends, Felix sometimes darts away to greet someone but mostly sticks to Daryl’s side.

It’s approaching midnight when Daryl mimics having a cigarette to Taiwo, who’s talking to a bunch of friends, and heads over to one of the emergency exits. He’s not surprised that Felix follows him. The night air is cool. He can see the silhouettes of two guards at the end of the alley.

‘Thanks for coming out,’ Daryl mutters before lighting a cigarette and inhaling sharply. ‘And the heads up earlier.’

Felix leans against the wall with his shoulder, shivering a bit because of the sudden temperature difference. ‘Of course. The first time they played a song like that, everyone panicked and fled. So stupid. People have gotten used to it now, but I still think they should screen their songs. A gun shot as a sound effect,’ Felix rolls his eyes, ‘ _great_ idea.’

‘Yeah. Pretty fucking stupid.’

‘Are you having fun though?’ Felix fixes his blond hair. The sideburns are damp with sweat but he smiles brightly.

‘More fun than I thought I would have,’ Daryl admits with a grin. ‘It’s weird, but fun. I’ve never really done anything like this, so…. Yeah. So how often is there a party like this?’

Felix thinks for a moment, ‘four times a year, I think? We didn’t do one last time – something had happened while scouting for a location. Nothing too bad,’ he hurries to add when Daryl frowns, ‘someone fell through a floor somewhere or something. They were fine after a while.’

‘Nothing too bad, they fell through a floor,’ Daryl repeats with a laugh.

Felix grins, ‘they were _fine_.’ The door behind them opens and closes. ‘Has Taiwo ever told you about that one time he –‘

A shoulder rams into Daryl’s. A boy with light-brown hair sneers at him in the passing. ‘Gossiping about the boyfriend? He won’t like that.’

‘If you knew what he liked, he wouldn’t have left your ass.’

Felix chokes on nothing at all and coughs, hand over his heart as the coughing morphs into laughter.

‘Keep walking,’ Daryl tells the other teenager while flicking some ash from his cigarette. He rolls his eyes at Felix when the other one actually moves on, ears red from embarrassment.

‘How did you know that was Russell?’ Felix asks.

‘Only one being an asshole,’ Daryl says with a shrug but then laughs. ‘Amaka pointed him out earlier. He was giving Hakeem the stink-eye from fifty feet away. _Knocking our shoulders together_? Fucking pussy. I’ve had Negan and Beta all over my ass, some scrawny asshole bumping against my shoulder isn’t going knock me on my ass.’

‘He tried to intimidate Daryl Dixon. Bless his heart for trying. Let’s get back inside.’ Felix laughs and yanks the door back open as soon as Daryl flicks his cigarette to the curb.

Even when they’re back, everyone crashing in the train-car of the twins to avoid being caught sneaking back in by Mason, Daryl can still feel the music pounding in his chest. He likes the feeling though, lying next to Taiwo on the bed and still laughing at something Vera is grumbling about.

Taiwo’s playing with his hair, traces the five o’clock shadow on his cheeks, always pauses to touch the beauty-mark near the corner of his mouth. ‘You look happy.’

‘I am.’

‘Me too.’

Daryl smirks, ‘and I’m glad your taste improved over the years. You were with _that_ guy?’

Taiwo suddenly looks affronted. ‘Hey! I’m not laughing at your ever-lasting soft spot for Jesus.’

‘What’s there to laugh about? Paul’s handsome.’

Taiwo arches an eyebrow and looks away.

‘ _What_? You don’t think so?’ Daryl laughs and hugs his boyfriend close, pressing a kiss to his jawline. ‘Thanks for taking me with you tonight.’

‘Stop it with the kissing over there!’ Vera demands from the other bed. ‘I’m sleeping next to Felix and Amaka, that’s enough sexual tension in one room, okay? Hakeem, go sleep over on that bed, keep an eye on them. This is too much anyway. There’s just two of them on that bed, _four_ of us on this one! Half of my ass is falling off the bed. Jesus Christ.’

Felix mutters something.

‘You want to say something about my fat ass, Felix?’ Vera demands. ‘You want to say that out loud?’

Hakeem climbs out from between Vera and Amaka, making a dramatic exit while smacking Felix in the face with a pillow before throwing himself onto the bed next to Taiwo.

‘Company,’ Taiwo says with a wiggle of his eyebrows while he looks at Daryl.

Daryl covers his face with one hand and laughs, laughs harder when Hakeem blindly reaches out to smack his best friend. Everyone settles down. Daryl listens to how Taiwo’s breathing becomes shallow as he falls asleep, how Amaka snores softly, how Felix wakes himself up because his hands slides off the edge of the bed and his fingers knock against the floor. It reminds him of his own family, back in the day. All of them in the barn, huddled together, in an abandoned house by the fire, their first night in Alexandria.

He falls asleep quickly.

And is woken up abruptly, just a couple of hours later.

It’s still dark in the train car. A shadow moves beside the bed, so close to him that it causes his breath to get stuck in his throat. There’s a hand on his shoulder, nails digging in for a second, and then there’s light.

Both he and Hakeem blink against the sudden light of the oil lamp on the nightstand.

‘Keem?’ Daryl asks groggily as he works himself up to one elbow, rubbing at his left eye with his free hand. ‘What’s wrong?’

Hakeem pretends to tip a hat.

‘Carl? What’s – is he here? What’s wrong?’

Hakeem shakes his head but points at the nightstand.

Only then does another voice register. It’s soft and strangely metallic, but definitely his brother’s voice. When he looks over, he remembers putting his radio on the nightstand, turning it down earlier so not everyone would wake up from all the status reports coming in from the morning shifts.

When his fingers curl around the device, he hears his brother repeat his own call sign, voice getting impatient, ‘- for little prince, over?’

‘Little prince,’ Daryl croaks as he pushes the button. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Come home,’ Carl orders. ‘ _Now_.’


	17. ... their arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas. Happy holidays!
> 
> Chapter warning; the death of children, graphic.   
> Want to skip? Stop at the paragraph that starts with 'When he comes-' and start again at paragraph that starts with 'Somewhere in his mind-'  
> Mention of it in future chapters (non-graphic).

* * *

Three days later, Carl still has a visible skip in his step even though there are bags under his eyes. The dark hair is much shorter now that he has allowed Enid to finally cut it. It had started to annoy him, since he’s no longer wearing the sheriff’s hat to keep it out of his face. Now it’s back to the length it had been at the prison.

‘I’m so sad I missed the party,’ Carl says as he swings a stick he’s found at some bushes on their way to check on the walker traps around Alexandria. ‘You’ll radio me next time, right? Enid and I could come.’

‘Sure,’ Daryl says, ‘but it’s a good thing you missed this one. Imagine missing out on your baby brother being born, man.’

‘Yeah,’ Carl’s smile grows as he beams. ‘Awesome. It took _way_ longer than I thought it would though. From when they first said it was happening to… I took a nap in between! I went back to bed. Enid was a trooper, and _Michonne_ … my God. Can you imagine having to…’

‘ _No_!’ Daryl laughs and shoves his brother’s shoulder.

Carl stumbles and laughs. ‘He’s pretty perfect,’ he says with a fond smile and peek at his brother, ‘right?’

‘Yeah, he is.’

‘I was kind of worried she’d call him….’ Carl plucks at the edge of his shirt sleeve, eyes down now. ‘That it would be… I don’t think I could… RJ’s a good name,’ he decides firmly, tips of ears now slightly red. ‘Suits him.’

‘It does, it’s just as short as he is.’

Carl snorts. ‘Yeah. Hey, thanks for coming out, by the way. Didn’t get a chance to say earlier, but – thanks. It means a lot to me. And I know it means a lot to Michonne, too.’

‘Don’t matter how pissed I am, I’m still going to hold my baby brother.’ Daryl watches how Carl laughs, and his own chest feels light. The sun is shining through the trees, the woods are quiet. It doesn’t matter that their night was broken by RJ’s crying. Even when Hershel was born, people told him that he’d get used to it and eventually learn to sleep through it, but he never has.

There’s something ingrained in him from when Judith was so small and they were on the run, that he can’t ever sleep through a baby crying. Always fearing that something far more dangerous was the cause, breathing a sigh of relief when they were just hungry or uncomfortable.

The sight of Michonne holding her newborn child had caused him endless joy. Before, he’d been scared that it would have been bittersweet. The picture isn’t complete without Rick there, of course, but he’s glad that everyone’s joyful, as well as grateful for Enid and Harlan’s help.

Another child, another future.

And Carl’s right; he’s pretty perfect.

‘Thanks for taking me with you,’ Carl says as he breathes in deeply. ‘This – RJ’s awesome and all, but this is nice. Getting out for a bit.’

‘Look at you being so fucking thankful all the time,’ Daryl snorts as he hitches his crossbow higher onto his shoulder. ‘You can clear the next trap, if you like it so much.’

‘I said I’ll stand guard, I’m not doing _that_.’

‘What? Because you’ve got _staff_ to do it for you?’

‘ _I’m_ not the one calling myself a _prince_.’

Daryl laughs and grabs his brother by the back of his neck, jumping slightly to force him down. ‘Bow, peasant!’ They play-fight all the way to the first trap, where Daryl is actually the one who clears it by yanking the bodies off the spikes and ending the walkers.

‘It’s because you’ve got the cool knives,’ Carl tells him while they walk to the next trap, looping all the way around Alexandria, following the sun. They talk and joke around, share some gossip and speculate about what Oceanside is going to do about that pending trade-deal. By the time they reach the south-side, Daryl’s knives are dripping with blood, but both brothers are laughing.

‘What do you mean, _you don’t know_?’

‘Well, they weren’t making out right in front of me,’ Daryl objects, waving his knives around to indicate invisible people. ‘How am I supposed to _know_?’

‘It’s Tai’s best friend!’ Carl laughs, hands tracing the bark of the trees as they walk through the tree line. ‘And his _sister_ , he _has_ to know.’

‘No, he said he’s keeping out of it. Felix’s scared – with the group and everything, if it goes to hell it’ll be messy, but – fuck it, I don’t know anymore. One visit I’m thinking one thing, other visit the other. Felix is in deep though, has been for a long ass time going by the stories. Pussy,’ Daryl spits into a bush. ‘Should just go for it.’

Carl snorts, ‘well, we’re not all _Daryl – everyone wants to fuck me – Dixon_ , so we gotta tread carefully, you know? Us common people.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘All I did was strike out first times I tried. Taiwo took pity on my ass, is all. Third time’s the charm and all that. And what the hell do you know about that? You _stole_ a girl! You’re a dog, man.’

The sound of Carl’s objections fades to the background when Daryl spots some strange tracks on the ground. A part of a footprint in a patch of mud, only worthy of catching his eye because it’s so deep and clear. Someone stood there. Stood still. He looks around, but from here it’s impossible to see Alexandria’s walls.

With narrowed eyes, he holds onto the strap of his bow as he walks on, eyes scanning the ground but he can’t find any other prints. There’s too much grass, fresh and green and bouncing back as soon as his own boots leave it, so he’s not surprised that there’s no imprint of anyone else either.

‘- and that’s how I got to be with Enid. I didn’t _steal_ her.’

‘You keep tellin’ yourself that,’ Daryl mutters as he veers slightly to the left, joining up with his brother. He doesn’t want to be too far from his side. After a casual glance at Carl’s belt, he asks; ‘still ain’t carrying your dad’s gun?’

Carl blinks due to the sudden subject change, the smile faltering only slightly. ‘Err- no. It’s – we’re keeping it in the house. In a box. For now.’

‘It’s a good piece,’ Daryl says with a shrug and he looks over his shoulder, but the woods are quiet.

‘Yeah, I know. What? Do _you_ want it?’

The offer is so ridiculous that it makes Daryl laugh. ‘Are you crazy? ‘course I don’t want it.’

‘Well, he was yours, too.’

Daryl shakes his head, ‘no – yeah, he were mine, but…. Hell, I know you loved Shane something fierce, but you ain’t carrying his number unless I think I’m dying, okay? Gun belongs to you, or Judith when she’s all grown.’ He throws his arm around his brother’s shoulders, glad that Carl puts his around his waist and hugs him to his side.

‘Judith wants to learn how to use a katana,’ Carl says with a breath of laughter and roll of his eyes.

‘Wants to be just like her mama. Can’t blame her for that. That thing saved our lives a thousand times over, fuck, remember when we – what were we even doing by that stream, measuring our damn dicks? When that walker came out of nowh-‘

Carl moans, cheeks glowing red as he starts to laugh, ‘ _taking a piss_ , oh my God, when that walker – my pants were still down!’

‘I were still holding my damn dick,’ Daryl snorts. ‘Imagine us shuffling along as walkers with our pants down. We were damn lucky she had the brains to follow us. _Those two sneaking off together? Trouble_. God, she’s a saint. Imagine getting with your dad, knowing all that would tag along.’

‘Did I ever tell you about – way back at the prison, she went with dad and I to our old town, right? And she got me that picture from inside the restaurant, I’ve told you about that, right?’

Daryl’s arm slides off Carl’s shoulders as he looks at the ground. They’ve cleared the forest, now turning left to head back to Alexandria via the main road. There’s a patch of grass and then asphalt. On the dark, cracked surface are wet footprints, coming out of the forest and turning left as well before they dry up.

‘Know what else she got?’ Carl asks, eyes still bright and cheeks rosy from laughter and being out in the sun. ‘A statue of a _cat_! And it was _ugly_! She loved it though.’

Daryl frowns. He presses his own boot into the mud and makes a print of the asphalt, next to the existing ones. His is much bigger. He looks left and right and can see several prints coming out of the woods, almost all of them smaller than his own.

‘Hey,’ Carl is already a couple of steps ahead before he notices that his brother stopped. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know,’ Daryl murmurs.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Daryl says as he looks up and joins his brother. ‘Is that why your dad got her that god-awful cat-thing from the junkyard? With those wires?’ He listens to Carl’s explanation, how much Michonne loves cats though he’s not sure whether she ever had one herself. Maybe she just likes ugly art, and the cat-thing is a coincidence. Daryl thinks that’s one hell of a coincidence, but keeps it to himself as he tries to shake the thought of the footprints out of his mind.

It doesn’t matter that they’re there.

Or that they lead to Alexandria.

They’ve got high walls, and enough people to guard them, though he doubts it will come to that.

The prints belong to a bunch of kids.

By the time they reach Alexandria, Daryl has made up a whole speech in his mind about the dangers of going outside of the walls. He supposes it’s a bit hypocritical of him, because he was always sneaking out at their age, but when he was as old as them, the world hadn’t ended yet. Even though the kids of Alexandria have grown up in this new world, they’ve always been behind the walls. Even Judith is not allowed to venture out, especially not on her own.

He wonders how they got out though. There are no teenagers at Alexandria, except of him Carl and Enid, though he hardly ever counts them as teenagers anyway. None of the kids would have been able to scale the walls. Marcus is a bit older than Judith, but not as fearless. Even with Enid’s trick, it would have been hard for all of them to go over.

Nobody would have left an exit unguarded, and nobody would have let a bunch of kids outside. Daryl frowns as he rubs at his nose, did they dig under the wall? He’s going to have to figure it out. That won’t be too hard. The kids love him and one glare will be enough to get them to spill their secrets.

When the gate opens, he’s surprised to see Rowan there. She usually works at the pantry and gardens. While she’s capable, she’s not someone who’s working the wall or gate often. The black hair is pushed behind one ear and she smiles when she lets them in. ‘There you are,’ she says, ‘you won’t believe what happened.’

‘What?’ Daryl asks as he turns around to walk into Alexandria backwards, eyes still on her. ‘Something happened? Nobody tried to raise us.’ His hand goes to his radio, but they’ve been hearing other announcements while they were walking their circle so he knows that it’s working properly.

‘It’s a good thing,’ Rowan beams. ‘They’re at your house.’

‘They?’ Carl asks with a frown. ‘Who’s they?’ But Rowan waves them off without answering, which makes him turn to his brother. ‘Visitors? Maybe it’s Maggie. Michonne was thinking about inviting her over to meet RJ.’

‘Maggie checked in at our Westpost earlier,’ Daryl says with a shake of his head. ‘They’re thinking of clearing that, something with the trees being good for construction or – I didn’t pay much attention. She wanted to give Michonne some time. It’s only been three days.’

‘Beth? No, we would have heard her check in at the safe house. Let’s just go see,’ Carl says before he starts to jog towards their house. When they jump up on the porch and open up the door, they both freeze. Unfamiliar voices come from inside their house. Carl’s eye is wide, he hesitates a moment before going in.

Daryl follows him, but freeze again just over the threshold.

There are two kids on their couch. Their faces dirty, hair matted, clothes torn and eyes distant, but they’re talking to Judith, who seems to be asking them a million questions. One of them is blonde, a young girl, a couple of years older than Judith. She tries to answer some of the questions but seems wary, gaze flitting about and falling silent when she spots the two teenagers who just came in.

The other is far older, a teenager, probably only two years younger than Daryl. Dark hair, just as filthy as the other child but more assertive. He puts a warning hand on the little one’s shoulder as he follows her gaze to the door.

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Judith beams, small legs swinging because her feet can’t reach the floor when she’s sitting on the big chair. ‘They’re my brothers! Carl and Daryl!’

‘What the hell is going on,’ Carl asks softly, voicing Daryl’s thoughts. ‘Who are-‘

‘Carl!’ Michonne comes out of the kitchen, little RJ wrapped in a blanket in her arms, walking gingerly over to the chair where Judith immediately hops down from to make room for her to sit. ‘Daryl, you won’t believe what happened. Come over, there’s someone I want you to meet. Joss?’

Another woman comes out of the kitchen, hands folded around a glass of water. She’s about Michonne’s age, dark hair in twists to keep it out of her face. She’s skinny, almost seems weak as she makes her way over to the couch, not sitting down but standing between the teenagers and the new kids. ‘Hello.’

‘Hello,’ Carl echoes warily, his gaze quickly moving to Michonne as if demanding an explanation.

‘These are my boys,’ Michonne says, holding out her hand for Carl. ‘This is Carl Grimes, and his brother; Daryl Dixon. And this is Jocelyn. An old friend, from before. Can you believe it?’ Michonne’s eyes sparkle when she smiles, ‘they arrived at Alexandria this morning.’

‘They just walked up?’ Daryl asks as his hand curls around the strap of his bow.

‘Joss was hurt, Enid treated her,’ Michonne says. She turns back to her friend, ‘I can’t believe we found each other. After all this time…’

Jocelyn smiles back at her old friend, seemingly astonished herself, ‘a miracle.’

The kids are called Winnie and Mitchell, and Daryl doesn’t like the fact that they’re talking to Judith. The little girl is delighted to have new friends, wants to show them her room, her toys, wants to share her clothes with the blonde girl. He’s glad that Winnie seems to be wary, shying away from the offered friendship by shifting closer to the teenager.

Carl does a good job playing host, getting them some water and food, because Daryl can’t bring himself to offer them anything but a suspicious glare out of the corner of his eye. It bothers him that Jocelyn sits right next to Michonne and tugs RJ’s blanket down slightly so she can see his face.

‘Beautiful,’ she sighs, but has the decency not to ask where the father is.

‘He is,’ Michonne agrees, so in love with her newborn. While she lets Carl, Enid and Daryl hold him, she never lets him out of her sight.

About an hour later, Rosita comes in to tell them that a house is ready for Jocelyn and her kids. Daryl nearly balks, trying to make eye-contact with his old friend to ask whether she has lost her mind, but Rosita is gone before he can object. Mitchell and Winnie are herded upstairs by Carl to shower, with Judith bouncing after them to chatter away.

For a second, Daryl awkwardly hovers in the hallway before fleeing the house. He hears Michonne make excuses for him to Jocelyn, but he bites his tongue and lets her. With his breath caught in his throat, he runs over to the infirmary. ‘You stitched them up?’ he asks as soon as he spots Enid. ‘Why weren’t you there with Michonne? What if – did you ask them the questions?’

‘Whoa,’ Enid says, holding a hand up to give him pause. ‘No – Jocelyn is a friend. Michonne knows her.’

‘From back in the day – she don’t know who the hell she is _now_! What – they’re just coming in here? They’re _moving in_?’

‘She’s got kids with her, Dare. They need a safe place to stay.’

‘Where have they been staying? They haven’t been starving, what – we don’t know anything about them. Who the hell is the guy?’

‘His name is Mitchell,’ Enid says. ‘And he’s not a _guy_. He’s sixteen. He’s just a kid.’

Daryl stares at her for a second. ‘Know what the hell I did when I were sixteen? Killed an entire outpost in their sleep. Has someone done the interviews? What the hell is wrong with you people?’

Enid rolls her eyes. ‘We’ll do the interviews. Let’s give them a second to adjust to things. _Michonne_ let them in. I talked to them while doing a physical. They’re nice, Dare. They’re … they’re just like us when we came in.’

‘I came in here after murdering a guy in a church.’

Enid arches an eyebrow, ‘maybe we made a mistake letting you in here then. You passed your interview though.’

‘I _lied_ during my interview. Everyone did.’

‘Then why does it matter that we’ve not done their interview yet? Michonne vouched for them. Don’t you see?’ Enid asks, ‘things are finally looking up. There are still people out there who need our help, and we can help them now. The borders are open. She let us open the gate for them. This is huge, Daryl. I know it’s scary,’ she says when he opens his mouth. ‘New people – you don’t like that, but this is a _good_ thing, Dare.’

It feels like he, Carl and Tara are the only ones who have their reservations. They’re standing on top of the guard tower and watch how Judith plays with some of the kids from Alexandria on their playground. Winnie and Mitchell are sitting on a curb nearby. It’s strange, Judith had handed Winnie a jumping rope earlier but the kid hadn’t known what to do with it.

It’s something Daryl can relate to, and he hates that. When they’d first arrived in Alexandria, he hadn’t known how to play with the other teenagers either. If it hadn’t been for Carl, he would have been the savage weird kid on the block forever.

Tara is leaning on the balustrade. ‘Two days. We should give them more time.’

‘We should make ‘em leave is what we should do,’ Daryl grumbles because he hasn’t been sleeping well, knowing that there are strangers in his neighborhood. ‘They want to do a sleepover party at Jocelyn’s place with all the kids. Kid can’t even jump rope, how the hell are they going to know what a sleepover is?’

‘Judith has sleepovers all the time though,’ Carl points out. He’s staring down at the kids, leaning on the railing as well. ‘She loves them.’

‘Yeah with Marcus and them,’ Daryl says. ‘Not at Jocelyn’s place. Who the hell even is she?’

Tara hums. ‘You’ve got to admit though; Michonne is over the moon. Can you imagine one of your best friends just walking back into your life like that? That would – honestly, I would have let them in, too. And it’s been two days. If they wanted to cause trouble, they would have done so by now.’

‘Who knows what they want,’ Daryl grumbles.

‘Maybe you can try to become friends with Mitchell,’ Tara says as she looks at Carl. ‘I’m not looking at Daryl – there’s no point in him trying, but people like you.’

‘People usually love Daryl.’

‘Daryl isn’t being very lovable right now,’ Tara says with a grin as she needles the Dixon with her elbow. ‘Hey,’ she says, the smile fading when she sees the dark look in his eyes. ‘We have to trust Michonne on this.’

Daryl nods and watches how Mitchell gets up to show what Winnie is supposed to do with the skipping rope.

A week later, Daryl is eating his cold breakfast after returning home from clearing the traps early in the morning. The sun has just come up, filtering through the blinds in the kitchen, when Michonne comes down the stairs with RJ in her arms. The little boy is asleep, little hands curled into fists, his dark hair peeking out from under the blanket.

‘Judith at a sleepover again?’ Daryl asks as he shovels some scrambled eggs into his mouth.

‘Yeah, she loves them,’ Michonne says with a fond smile, and Daryl does his best not the retch because he’s sick of hearing the phrase. ‘I’m going to pick her up now.’

‘Want me to watch RJ?’ Daryl asks, sitting up eagerly.

‘No, I’m bringing him over.’ She watches how his shoulders curl inwards as he goes back to his breakfast. ‘But can you hold him while I put on my shoes?’

Daryl whirls out of his seat to wash his hands, ‘yeah, sure!’ He holds his breath when Michonne gently hands him her son. She doesn’t need to tell him to hold him close, or to support his head. Daryl grins as he sits down again.

‘Hey, bro,’ he whispers as the baby wriggles in his arms to get comfortable. ‘Oh, big yawn? That’s a big yawn, good job. Oh,’ he catches the boy’s fist with his pinky, ‘careful. Don’t hit yourself in the face now. Oh, back to sleeping? Okay, man.’ When he looks up after a couple of minutes, Michonne is leaning against the pillar, arms folded in front of her chest as she smiles at him. He groans, ‘sorry.’

‘It’s cute.’

‘He is.’ Daryl gets up to hand her son back. ‘Thanks.’

‘For what?’

Daryl shrugs, ‘know we haven’t been…. I’m just glad I could come and meet him.’

Michonne’s smile falls. ‘Dare… you’re his _brother_. I know things have been… hard, but you don’t know how much joy it brings to see you, back here with Jude and Carl, and now RJ. It’s what he would have wanted.’

‘Ain’t what you wanted though,’ he says before he can stop himself. ‘Sorry. I know you didn’t mean it, but…’

‘You were hurt,’ Michonne says softly. ‘You can voice that hurt. I’m glad that you came, that you’re here. I meant what I said; this is your _home_. It will _always_ be your home.’

‘Yeah. Thanks,’ he says, turning back to his eggs to show that he’s done discussing the subject. ‘You bringing Ass kicker back here? I’m going to check some snares, might let her tag along. Woods were quiet earlier.’

‘I am,’ Michonne nods, ‘but Jude needs to do her homework.’

Daryl snorts. ‘This fucking family,’ he mutters, ‘she’s just like her brother, huh?’

Michonne laughs but scolds him gently as she opens the door. ‘Language, Dixon,’ she says before disappearing.

Daryl hums and rolls his eyes while eating the rest of his breakfast and washing his plate. The radio crackles on his belt, informing him of what is going on out in the world. At moments like this, he wishes he’d brought Taiwo along after all. A quiet morning, doing nothing special, but the other man had to work and can’t keep disappearing from Washington.

He thinks about radioing him, toys with the receiver trying to guess the time and whether Taiwo would already be up and about. Probably not if he had a nightshift, but he’s not sure. Maybe Felix’s working the radio, he could probably-

The sound of Michonne’s voice calling for Judith makes him stop in his tracks. It’s not an unusual sound at all, she often calls the girl in from her porch for dinner, calls her name to make her get down from the guard post where she’s not supposed to be up on, to tell her to stick to Carl whenever she leaves the house. But this sounds different. There’s a hint of panic to Michonne’s voice that he hasn’t heard in a long time.

When she calls out for Judith again, Daryl gets up and jogs to the porch, grabbing his crossbow on the way out. Then he hears that it’s not just Michonne calling for Judith, but all kinds of parents shouting for their kids.

‘ _Marcus_?’

‘ _Judith_?’

‘Where are you at, buddy?’

‘Answer me!’

Daryl starts to run and quickly locates Michonne outside of Jocelyn’s house, where the door is open and everything seems quiet. ‘What’s wrong? I heard you shouting-‘

‘Judith,’ Michonne says as she looks around with wild eyes while clutching RJ to her chest, ‘they’re gone. I can’t find her. Dare – help.’

‘Yeah, they can’t have gone far. Maybe they’re at the play-‘

‘ _Michonne_!’

The sound of Marcus’ dad’s voice is all wrong too. Too high-pitched, too frantic. Daryl grabs his radio, ‘Carl, get down to pantry – right now,’ he orders before following Michonne around the corner and down the street. Right next to the pantry, there’s a body. The skull bashed in. One of the volunteers who walks their streets at night to make sure everything’s quiet.

‘They took the food.’

Running footsteps and someone comes flying around the corner, but to Daryl’s surprise, it’s not Carl but Enid. Out of breath and with wide eyes, hair escaping her braid. ‘Michonne! Something is wrong. The infirmary – it’s been raided! They took everything.’

‘The kids,’ Michonne says, voice shaky and eyes now filling with tears, ‘Judith – where’s – oh no.’ There’s blood pooling around the body. Someone stepped into it earlier. A small print, just like the one Daryl had seen on the road, a week ago. It leads them towards the entrance to the sewers. ‘No,’ Michonne breathes as they follow the trail. ‘Oh please, God, no.’

‘Dare!’ Carl comes running down the street. ‘What’s wrong? Everyone’s looking for –‘ he stops when he passes the body.

‘It’s Jocelyn, she took the kids,’ Daryl throws the strap of his crossbow over his head, letting the weapon thud against his back. With a grunt, he pushes the heavy lid out of the way and looks down. ‘She got Judith, man. Where are the exits? Carl-‘ he raises his voice to make his brother look at him, ‘the tunnels – where do they lead to?’

‘One comes up right next to the broken-down house – at the main gate,’ Enid says quickly. ‘The other one goes east, it ends at that roster.’

‘Get Rosita and Tara – tell them to head east, we’ll go north,’ Daryl orders as he starts to walk backwards already. ‘Go on foot, we can’t miss their trails or fuck ‘em up – we need to track ‘em down. Hurry! Carl, come on!’

‘Daryl, wait, I’m- ’ Michonne says as she looks around, but Enid is already gone to find Tara and there’s nobody to take RJ.

‘You stay here,’ Carl says as he gently pushes Michonne back towards the house. ‘Keep everyone calm. Dare and I – we’ll be back soon, promise.’

Michonne is crying now, holding her baby close, desperate. ‘Bring her back,’ she cries, sinking to the ground as she sobs, ‘please. Oh God, please…’

Daryl feels his heart bleed for her but can’t pay it any mind now that Carl grabs his wrist and yanks him along. They start running. By the time they reach the gate, Enid is already there to open and close it for them, out of breath and with no time to tell her boyfriend to be careful. She watches them go.

Later, he won’t remember being scared, or even fearing for Judith’s life or any of the kid’s lives very much. He’s too focused on finding any trail, any sign of the kids or Jocelyn, but they’ve managed to cover their tracks pretty well. Half a boot print that seems pretty fresh, but he can’t be sure it wasn’t from a patrol that came through earlier.

Further and further out they go until Carl falls onto a swing to check on Tara and Rosita, who aren’t having any luck either. They catch their breath in silence, feet dragging as they gently swing back and forth, no point in talking. They know they have to find them, and find them fast.

Their break is short but enough.

Daryl frowns as he looks around and stops walking. ‘They’re with a bunch of fucking kids,’ he says. ‘This far out? Two would have to be carried already. They’re gonna be slow like molasses, man. Ain’t gonna find no tracks, we gotta outsmart them. This is our land, man.’

Carl nods. ‘Kids. Tired, cranky. They’re going to need to stop soon. They’ll need shelter.’

‘What’s the nearest place?’ Daryl asks as he looks around, ‘that place with the storage units?’

‘I think it’s that school,’ Carl counters. ‘I mean – the storage unit _is_ closer, but only if you cut through the woods. Strange place, bunch of little kids with you? You’re taking the road.’

‘Yeah – let’s go.’ It doesn’t take them long at all to reach the building. There’s a chain-linked fence surrounding it, but Daryl finds a spot where it’s ripped apart to create a hole, barely big enough for him to push through. With a whistle, he summons Carl, who nods as he pulls his gun out of the holster. Then he draws a circle in the air before pointing right.

Daryl nods and slips inside of the fence. He heads left. It’s clear that he has gotten the wrong side when he hears Carl scream; ‘ _Winnie! No! Get back here_!’ He starts running, rounds the building until he finds a door that’s open. With his crossbow up, he steps into a classroom. Dusty tables and chairs, faded posters on the walls. His footsteps are silent as he makes his way to the hallway.

‘Holy shit,’ he breathes when he looks down it.

Carl is standing there, half-way, gun raised as a group of kids. Winnie is standing among them, one of the smallest but clearly fitting in. All of them dirty, knotted long hair, a dull look in their eyes and their small fingers curled around various knives and spears. One boy has a bow, loaded and string pulled back, holding it as he now takes aim at Daryl.

‘Where’s my sister?’ Carl asks. ‘Where are our kids?’

‘Drop ‘em,’ Mitchell’s voice is cold as he nods at Carl’s gun and Daryl’s crossbow.

‘Just tell me that they’re safe,’ Carl pleads as he holds his gun loosely so it tips up towards the ceiling.

The boy lets his arrow fly.

Daryl is too stunned to react in time. He grunts as the arrow buries itself into his shoulder. A burning, fiery pain that just explodes inside his body, making him drop his crossbow and reach for the pain. Bloodied fingers touching the arrow, mind reeling at the thought of being hit. With a soft moan, he pulls the arrow out and presses the palm of his hand into the wound to try and stop the bleeding as he falls to his knees.

When he looks up, one of the younger kids steps towards Carl, who has knelt down to put his gun on the ground. Just when Carl looks back at his brother, the kid lashes out with the back of his knife, knocking Carl out cold.

‘Fuck you,’ Daryl breathes as the kid moves towards him. ‘I’ll _burn_ you alive.’

The child stops.

‘Don’t be scared, Linus,’ Mitchell says as he steps over Carl’s body. ‘You can’t be scared.’

‘I’ll kill you,’ Daryl promises the teenager. ‘I will kill you all.’

‘All bark,’ Mitchell tells Linus with a smile. ‘Go on.’

The kid steps forward, almost comes too close because Daryl’s bloody fingers graze his shirt but Mitchell pulls him back in time. Everything goes black as Mitchell kicks him in the head.

When he comes to, there’s a fire crackling in the room and pain is flaring in his shoulder. It burns like embers hidden beneath his skin. It takes his mind several moments to catch up, to recognize that his hands are tied above his head, to open his eyes and see a hazy room. Carl is right in front of him, tied up as well and hanging from a meat hook. There are figures moving near the fire, voices drift in and out until they crystalize.

Carl’s eye opens, unfocussed at first but slowly recognizing his brother. His breathing quickens as he gains consciousness. Fingers scratch at the ropes. There’s a pole right above them, holding the hooks.

Winne is there, saying something, Mitchell watches on, and then there’s Linus who pulls something from the fire. A red-hot iron with a cross at the end. He takes the rod, walks over to Daryl, to his back so the Dixon can no longer see him. Mitchell follows, helps the boy by pulling Daryl’s shirt up to reveal the scarred back.

‘Go on, Linus,’ the voice that belong to Jocelyn says from a dark corner. ‘Be strong.’

And then there’s pain engulfing Daryl. He screams but it’s muffled by a gag in his mouth. His feet desperately scrape over the floor as he wriggles from pain, trying to breathe, breathe, _breathe_ as the red-hot iron bites into his lower-back. There’s no point in trying to keep it in. He screams, moans, voice rising in pitch until he sounds like a kicked dog.

He doesn’t even notice that the iron is pulled away, just trashes, fights against his restraints, closes his eyes as tears start to well. They run over his face by the time Linus steps aside.

‘Well done, Linus.’

‘The strong survive,’ the boy says as he looks at Jocelyn, who is now closer and on her feet.

‘And thrive.’ Her voice is strangely cold when she speaks. ‘Children are capable of anything,’ she tells Carl while Linus walks back to the fire. She turns Carl slightly so he’s no longer facing Daryl. The oldest Grimes protests, grunts and tries to kick but their feet are bound together, too. He tries to wriggle back, tries to look at his brother, to catch his eye, to do _something_.

‘I taught them.’ Jocelyn sounds proud. ‘Helped them become what we are, because they can’t be soft. Not now. Not like I was…’

‘Where is she?’ Carl asks, voice muffled because of his gag but the words still clear enough. There’s desperation in his voice. Fear.

A clank and the iron is pulled out of the fire again. This time by Winnie.

‘Control it, Winnie,’ Jocelyn orders, chin high. ‘Don’t let _it_ control you.’

The little girl nods and walks over. Carl’s shirt is lifted and Daryl closes his eyes when he hears his brother scream. The sizzling sound. The smell of burning flesh. The horrid sound of Carl’s moans and struggle.

‘Good,’ Jocelyn says. The iron rod clatters onto the floor. ‘Let it settle,’ she tells the children before herding them out of the room.

Everything is silent except for their ragged breathing.

For a moment, Daryl wants to disappear. His head hangs low, his shoulders hurt, his back hurts, everything feels like it’s on fire. He listens to the soft sobs coming from his brother. He’s long since made peace with dying young.

Not like this though. And not with his brother right next to him.

It takes all of his strength to first look up at his hands and then curl his whole body up so his feet reach the ceiling. There’s not a lot of room and when he tries to stretch his legs, the pole, which turns out to be an old pipeline, creaks.

The sound causes Carl to look up and then over his shoulder. His eye widens.

Daryl grunts, his arms are shaking from the pain and pressure but then he pushes hard. Hard enough for the pipe to break. With a smack that makes him moan and cry, he falls to the ground. There’s a mad scramble to both get off his hurting back and get his hands and feet free, to scramble to his feet and stumble over to Carl. It takes him a second, two, more, it feels like an eternity but he manages to get Carl free, who lands on his feet but falls over, hitting the wall hard with his shoulder.

It’s Carl who gets his gag off first and then reaches out to his brother.

Hands on his head makes him grunt in fear until he realizes that it’s just Carl, helping him. The gag falls to the floor.

For a second, they lean on each other, trying to catch their breath.

‘Judith,’ Carl whispers. He walks back to the broken pipe and grabs the broken piece.

‘We’ll find her,’ Daryl promises. ‘C’mon.’

A couple of steps until they feel steady and they’re out of the door, trying to run up a set of stairs but the pain flares and makes Daryl misjudge one, so he slips and nearly falls before catching himself. Carl stumbles too but makes it to the top first.

‘Send out another patrol. There could be more of them,’ Jocelyn’s voice orders from down the hallway. Then she spots them. ‘They’re both out! Alert the others. Load up the rest. We need to go.’

Winnie blows on a whistle and whirls around. She runs down the hallway.

‘Where are the kids?’ Carl demands, holding the broken pipe like it’s his mother’s katana. There’s a group of kids surrounding Jocelyn and one of the girls steps forward, holding one of Daryl’s hunting knives. It seems insanely large in her small hands. ‘Where’s Judith? Tell me!’

‘Why?’ Jocelyn asks with a strange smile on her face. ‘She’s better off. You all live in the past, chasing a ghost, while Judith’s been with me.’

A door behind her opens suddenly and a bunch of kids stream out of the building. In a flash, Daryl recognizes some of the kids from Alexandria, but then a teenager marches past with one under his arm. One that’s kicking and crying and screaming. One who suddenly recognizes her brothers.

‘Carl!’ Judith screams while reaching for him. ‘Carl! No! _Carl_! Daryl! Dare! _Please_!’

But she’s carried away while Carl screams for her and Daryl watches how the door closes and is locked.

‘You know what’s next, Linus,’ Jocelyn says.

‘Marked our kill,’ Linus says. It sounds like he’s been practicing the line for ages. Automatic. Robotic. So foreign. ‘Kill our mark.’

Jocelyn pushes the girl who’s holding Daryl’s knife forward, too. ‘Help him!’ Then she pulls at Mitchell’s sleeve, urging him back, ‘let’s go!’ They start running away.

The girl lashes out at Carl with an angry scream but the blow is easily deflected by him. He pushes her against the wall and holds up one hand in a pacifying gesture. ‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he says, voice a little shrill with panic. She comes at him again and this time he blocks it by hitting her arm with the pipe, so hard that it must be broken.

The knife clatters to the floor.

Daryl inches closer, one hand on Carl’s shoulder to let him know he’s there.

Linus steps forward at the same time as Carl, who has his eye on the boy but is leaning down to try and grab the knife. The twin of the weapon is in Linus’ hands. He can barely close his fingers around the handle.

Just a Carl’s fingertips touch the wood, Linus jumps forward. He slashes the air until blood splatters onto the wall and Carl gasps. He was too late with the dodge and curls in on himself, hand going to his lower belly, palm pressing down as blood starts to stain his flannel shirt.

Daryl grabs Carl by the shoulder and yanks him back, taking his place. The pipe switches hands easily and Daryl uses it as the baseball bat he so misses now. A mighty swing that has Linus scrambling to get out of the way. He collides with the wall by accident, so surprised and in a panic that he drops the knife. Unarmed, both he and the girl flee.

Daryl drops the pipe, grabs both of his knives and runs after them.

As soon as he clears another classroom and yanks a door open that just closed in front of him, steps out into the grass, something hits him right in the face. Pain makes him blind as he crashes into the ground, tries to roll with the punch but there’s something heavy coming down on his already-hurting back. It makes him scream but his fists clench so he won’t let go of his weapons.

‘I didn’t know it was going to be Michonne,’ Jocelyn says, slightly out of breath and holding a wooden plank. ‘I’m truly sorry that it was. It was just… fate.’

Daryl doesn’t listen. Can barely hear her due to the pain making his ears ring, but he manages to twist around and slash in blind anger. He hits her. Hits her right in the leg which causes her to stumble back, cry out in pain and crash to the ground as well. It gives him enough time to scramble over, to get the advantage over her, and he doesn’t stop to think. He manages to plant one knee on her sternum and then hits, hits, hits. The knives plunge in and out of her chest, her head, her neck, anywhere he can reach.

The body shakes until she dies.

‘Daryl,’ Carl comes to a stop beside him, panting slightly and still holding his hand against the wound. He breathes his brother’s name, watches how he looks up, face now streaked with someone else’s blood. He holds out his hand.

Daryl allows his brother to help him up. He hobbles a few steps until he can hear a door close. A strangely familiar sound from so long ago – the door of an RV closing.

Winne is standing in front of it, staring at him with wide, almost innocent eyes. There’s Mitchel, too, with a dark look on his face. The girl from before, now holding a wooden stick. Linus. Another girl with red curls. A boy – another teenager, someone else.

Daryl closes his eyes for a second, trying to breathe through his nose.

‘You can all come back to Alexandria,’ Carl says. ‘We’ll take care of you now.’

It’s Mitchell who turns to Winnie. ‘Kill the children. The rest of you are with me.’

Daryl’s eyes open just when Mitchell charges.

The children have been trained, but not by Shane. Not by Rick. Not by Merle. Not by Rosita. Not by Morgan. Not by Maggie. Not by Negan. Not by Paul Rovia. They have never learned one of Will’s many lessons.

It’s easy to make Mitchell trip and bite the dust.

‘Stay down,’ Carl warns, ‘we don’t want to hurt you. Winnie, don’t do it! Winnie, no!’

But the girl turns on her heels and heads towards the RV.

And Carl’s wrong.

Daryl does want to hurt them. Wants to make them kneel and bash their skulls in before slicing their throats to empty them out. Wants to tie them to a pole and watch them burn. Wants to butcher them on an altar. Wants to make them piss their pants in a circle while on their knees. Wants to carve their faces off their bones. Wants to take a picture of their dead mother and make them watch it for days, until they go mad.

‘Please,’ Carl pleads but it’s too late.

There’s no stopping them. And it leaves Daryl with no choice. He steps back just when Mitchell gets up, slices his throat with one fell swoop that leaves his body trashing and gurgling in the grass. It sends Linus into a rage, charging at Carl who first pushes him away but then brings the metal pipe down on the top of his head to crack it.

The girl with the red hair. Daryl steps in front of his brother, deflects her weapon with one of his, which leaves him with plenty of time to bury the other inside her chest. Carl’s pipe clangs against the wooden pole of the girl. He loses his grip on it, surprised by her strength, but he holds out his hand and doesn’t need to ask.

Daryl throws him one of his knives before turning to the other teenagers. They all come charging at them no matter how much Carl pleads and begs. They all end up at Daryl’s feet, still, their grimaces of rage etched onto their faces forever.

‘Winnie,’ Carl says, voice broken, and the girl is standing in the door opening of the RV with her knife in her hand. ‘ _Please_.’

Her gaze sweeps over her dead brothers and sisters. She doesn’t seem sad. Doesn’t seem to feel anything at all, until horror breaks through the mask. She lowers her knife. Jumps down from the vehicle, and starts to run.

Carl’s shoulders sag with relief.

Daryl takes his knife and balances it on his palm, grips it tightly, follows the bobbing blonde head as the girl runs and then throws it after her. She falls into the grass with a soft thud, and never gets up again.

Carl’s knees nearly buckle as he tries to take a step. His voice leaves him until it comes back, cracked and all wrong. ‘ _Judith_?’

A horrible, horrible moment of silence.

‘Carl!’ Scrambling footsteps and then Judith comes flying out of the RV, arms wide, face pale and tear-streaked, but so, so alive. She crashes into her brother, arms around his neck, sobbing as she tries to get closer and closer to him until he lifts her up and hugs her so tight that it must hurt them both.

The other kids start to pour out as well.

Daryl staggers over, his hand finding Marcus’ shoulder to lean on first. ‘Are you guys okay?’ he asks, voice raspy and desperate, ‘everyone a’right? Okay, good,’ he says when they all nod, eyes wide and fearful. ‘Grab someone’s hand and keep looking down at your feet. Don’t look up, okay? Keep looking at your feet and we’ll take you somewhere else. We can’t stay here.’

‘Where are we going?’ a little girl pipes up.

‘Home,’ Daryl promises. He takes Marcus’ hand and leads the whole string of children towards the other side of the building, where the road is and no bodies are anywhere to be seen. Carl follows them, still holding Judith. On their way, Daryl bends down to grab the knife he’d thrown, shaking the blood off of it before putting it back into the sheath.

A terrified gasp. Marcus tightens his hold on his hand.

‘Told you not to look,’ Daryl bites out before leading them further.

When the kids are sitting in the clean grass, Carl steps up beside him with a pain of grimace. ‘Take her? We gotta find our radios. Your bow.’

‘I’ll head back in,’ Daryl mutters but Carl has already put Judith down next to him and walks back into the building. With a sigh, the Dixon sits down in the grass, leaning back against the wall. His hands are shaking. There’s blood everywhere. He feels sick to his stomach, a strange mixture of pain and terror. Cold sweat drips down his sideburns.

‘When are we going home?’ Judith asks with a small voice.

‘Soon,’ he whispers.

‘I tried to stop her,’ Judith says. ‘I really did!’

‘I know you did. You did good.’

Judith nods, bites on her lips when she looks at him. ‘Thank you. I knew you’d come. You and Carl.’

‘Kicker,’ Daryl says as he closes his eyes and folds his bloody hands over them, ‘please, just – don’t.’ When he closes his eyes, he can feel his knives slicing through tissue. The blood cold on his skin, strange bits and pieces sticking to him, he remembers their names, hears them in the voices of the children of Alexandria nearby, can’t get their eyes out of his head and-

He twists to the side and throws up.

Judith wrinkles her nose and wobbles on the balls of her feet, not sure what to do. ‘Are you sick?’ she asks.

And he spits in the grass and laughs as the blood cools on his skin.

Somewhere in his mind, he knows that Rosita talked to him on the way back. It’s just static though. It’s noise that seems to come from too far away, a language he’s forgotten as he watches himself murder a child over and over and over, every time he closes his eyes. Everything moves too fast, too slow, out of focus.

When he looks to his right, he sees that Carl is staring at a speck of dust on the headrest in front of him. Eyes unfocussed, probably seeing the exact same scenes. A horror movie that loops and loops and loops, drowning out everything else.

He can’t remember arriving at Alexandria, but suddenly Michonne is there. Tears on her face, a gently hand on his cheeks as she tries to get him to look at her.

‘Daryl?’

Even his name sounds all wrong. He barely recognizes it.

A haze of Rosita and Tara, Eugene’s voice and then Enid and Harlan, gentle, gentle, trying not to spook him as they try to check him over. It startles him all the same. He jumps back, bares his teeth like a feral dog before recovering. ‘Carl’s hurt. He needs stitches,’ he says. ‘I’m fine.’

Nobody believes him but nobody dares to touch him either.

He can walk so he walks home.

Up the stairs. Into his room.

Rosita follows him and sits down on the chair at his desk. Her gaze stays on him at all times.

He ignores the bed. Sinks down onto the floor, in the little corner between his nightstand and the wall. Bloodied hands curl into firsts that press against his lips as he gently rocks himself, eyes wide. Seeing nothing that will ever make sense. Over, and over and over and…


	18. Thin lines

* * *

The line between nightmares and reality is so thin. He wakes up to pain, tearing himself out of blood-drenched dreams with a groan that morphs into a moan of agony. It still feels like his lower-back is on fire. Red splotches have turned into horrid bruises overnight. His back is covered with them, his left arm too. There are red marks on his wrists. He hasn’t showered yet but that’s the least of his worries.

Somewhere, in all that darkness, a spark of amusement comes from the sight of Rosita sleeping at his desk. Still sitting side-ways on the wooden chair, but with her arms on the surface of his desk, probably drooling on his old sketches. The dark hair is split into two ponytails, which make her look younger than she really is. A gun pokes in her side. They’re probably both going to regret sleeping in these positions.

‘Rosita.’ His voice is deeper than normal, just a rasp.

The woman’s eyes fly open immediately and she gets up with a grimace. Hand on her gun, turning to him and the door, unsure of where the threat is coming from.

‘Clear,’ Daryl assures her but he holds out a hand. ‘Can you help me up?’

It takes her a second to react. Her gaze slowly moves over him. The blood on his boots, grass stains on his hips, the bruises peeking out from under his armor. There’s pain radiating from around his eye as well, which makes him wonder whether he has a black-eye or if it just hurts from getting knocked into a wall. There’s sorrow in her eyes as her features soften.

He wriggles his fingers because he doesn’t want to hear it.

She grabs hold of his wrist, blocks his feet with hers and yanks him up.

Tears spring into his eyes as he finds his footing, not sure whether he wants to double over or stand tall, but bringing his arm up so he can bite in his forearm to smother a scream. Fire runs up and down his spine.

Hands guide his face to the crook of Rosita’s neck. She makes a shushing sound as she kisses his temple, strokes his hair. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers. ‘You’re okay. You’re okay.’

The scream fades into soft sobs as he leans against his friend, hiding in her warmth. He’s grateful that she lets him. She’s never been the one who he’d been drawn to for comfort, perhaps due to her tough exterior and attitude. He’d liked that she was always tough on him, always pushing him to hit harder, do better, giving him that smug smile whenever she’d managed to send him sprawling into the dirt. But now she lets him lean against her until the sobs die out.

‘Do you want me to radio Harlan?’

‘No. I shouldn’t have fallen sleep last night, ‘m just stiff ‘nd sore. It’ll get better once I move ‘round some.’

Rosita gently takes his arm, ‘Dare,’ she says as she looks at the fresh wound there. The imprint of his teeth, blood welling up where he punctured the skin. ‘He needs to clean this.’

‘Ain’t gonna waste his time with that,’ Daryl mutters. His hand squeezes her shoulder as he tries to take a step past her, a grimace of pain flashing over his features as he hisses. ‘Why didn’t you take the bed?’

‘Same reason you didn’t either,’ Rosita says as she curls an arm around his slim waist to help him walk. ‘I wasn’t planning on sleeping. Don’t tell Harlan I did, by the way. He was very adamant about someone staying with you all night.’

They both let the reason why rest between them.

‘Thanks for staying,’ Daryl says. He steers them both towards the bathroom, where he squeezes her upper arm before getting in alone. It’s one of the coldest rooms in the house. Sterile white, though Rick had quickly replaced the towels with black ones after they’d ruined too many. There’s a hamper for their dirty laundry. Some bottles with some kind of soap a lady down the street makes.

He leans against the sink and can’t bring himself to lift his arms and take his armor off. Can’t lean down to unlace his boots. There’s too much pride in him left to call Rosita in and have her help him. Too much pride, and too much fear. He doesn’t want her to see, not any of it. Not the mark on his back, not the old scars he’d inflected on himself, not the bruises.

It takes him enough effort as is to move to the toilet. He leaves a dark smear on the handle when he flushes, decides that he should probably wash his hands at the very least. Blood and grime swirls down the drain. With a groan, he bows down to let the water splash on his face but he can’t hold the position for long enough. Aching ribs force him back up. He wipes his face with one of his dirty shirts that’s sticking out of the hamper.

He refuses to look at himself in the mirror.

When he hobbles back out, he’s surprised to see that Rosita is gone. Her voice comes from downstairs. He supposes he can’t stay hidden away in his room forever, so he gingerly makes his way down the staircase that suddenly seems ten times as high. It takes him a lot of effort to get down. There’s sweat prickling on his neck when his boots finally touch the hardwood floor.

Rosita is next to him in a flash. ‘You should have called for me, I thought you were going to take a shower.’

‘Don’t need one,’ he says but tilts one corner of his mouth up to show that he’s kidding. ‘I want to get moving first.’

‘But a hot shower might help with-‘

‘Thanks,’ he says, cutting her off.

‘Sure.’

He walks without her help, but is glad that she’s staying by his side. His legs feel unsteady.

‘Dare.’ The sound of Michonne’s voice causes him to look up. She’s standing near the kitchen island, one hand trailing over the marble, unsure of whether she should get closer to him. There’s horror in her eyes as he looks him over, but she tries to hide it behind a fragile smile. ‘Good morning.’

The words are so asinine that he doesn’t bother to respond.

‘How are you?’

It physically hurts him to swallow the insults and harsh rebuttals that are on the tip of his tongue. He simply looks at her, not knowing what else to do. He doesn’t blame her, not for any of it, but the anger simmering in his veins make his thoughts dark and vicious.

She moves closer, mistaking his silence for calmness. ‘Judith really wants to see you. She’s so worried. We had to move her to Tara’s house last night – we tried to explain that you weren’t in pain but with you screaming like that…’

Daryl chews on the inside of his mouth for a second. ‘Well, tell her I’m sorry ‘nd stuff. For keeping her up.’

Michonne takes another step towards him, ‘she’s just worried. It’ll be fine,’ she smiles. ‘She’ll feel better when she sees you in a minute.’

‘No.’

Michonne’s eyebrows shoot up, ‘no?’

‘I ain’t seeing her,’ Daryl states. ‘I’ll go stay at the infirmary or something.’

‘What do you mean?’ Hurt starts to bleed into Michonne’s expression. ‘This wasn’t her fault. Whatever happened, she didn’t mean-‘

Daryl shakes his head. ‘I ain’t blaming her. You promised you’d listen to me, so you gotta hear me; I ain’t seeing her. Don’t want to talk to her, don’t want to hear her. Not her, not Marcus, not any of the damn kids, okay?’

Michonne’s eyes narrow. She takes a step backwards, probably out of habit. ‘What happened out there? What happened to you and Carl?’

The question and sincere confusion take him by surprise. None of the kids had seen the extent of the carnage, maybe they hadn’t pieced together what had happened, but he’d thought that maybe Carl had told her by now. His gaze drifts through the living room, trying to find a trace of his brother. It lingers on the sheriff’s hat for a second, still always linking that to him, before it moves on.

‘He’s staying with Enid,’ Michonne tells him. ‘He refused to come home last night.’

At least he had the foresight to expect Judith there, Daryl thinks. He supposed he’d just been lucky to not run into her this morning. It had been bad enough that the children had cried when they arrived back at Alexandria, so happy to see their parents again. Their voices so shrill, too young to own their own colors yet and thus reminding him of every child as soon as he closed his eyes. Pulling him back into that cellar, hanging from that pipe, and later pulling his knives to-

‘I’ll stay in the infirmary,’ Daryl says.

‘You’ll stay with me and Tara,’ Rosita states firmly.

They probably expected him to object and fight, because Rosita’s smile is full of surprise and warmth when he nods. ‘Thank you.’ He starts walking again, hobbling really, before stopping next to Michonne.

‘Dare…’ her voice is soft, almost pleading with him.

‘Give us some time,’ he asks. ‘Judith is fine. Nothing happened to the kids.’

‘But what happened to _you_? To Carl?’ Michonne looks like she wants to reach out and touch him, but he’s glad that she doesn’t. ‘Carl said – he told us we didn’t have to double up the guards, or send people out…’

A bitter laugh threatens to escape him. Vicious words about how she _does_ know and that she just wants him to, once again, be the messenger of terrible news. That her _friend_ is never coming back to knock on their door again. That one of her children might be safe, but that the cost was so high for the other. That everyone must learn to look into their eyes and come to terms with what they have done when the news breaks. That she’ll look at them differently from now on.

‘Just fuck off,’ he says softly, hanging his head and giving up on that fight. It wouldn’t give him the satisfaction he craves; Michonne shocked and horrified. She wouldn’t even react how he wants her to react; she’d be shocked but kind, all hesitant comfort instead of the harsh punishment he longs for right now. He wants everything else to hurt more than what’s paining him now.

It’s not fair on her, he knows. He has done it to so many people over the years, the push and pull until the other cracked and finally gave in, leaving wounds that would fester inside of him for years even though he was the one asking for it. It doesn’t help.

So instead he squeezes Rosita’s upper arm and slowly walks out of the house.

Tara wants him to eat something. She wants him to take a shower, a hot bath. She wants him to see Harlan or at least Enid. She wants him to drink some tea. She wants to give him a backrub. She wants him to watch a movie with her on the couch, she wants him to walk around town to loosen up his muscles, she wants him to sleep.

Daryl leans against the kitchen island. The list of ideas that might give him some comfort would be annoying if it came from anyone else. It’s behavior he recognizes from during the war and after, a nervous tendency to try and make everything better. Offering up time and resources until she runs out of ideas. She only stops when she asks whether he wants to play a video game and he raises an eyebrow at her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, sounding lost while standing in her big house. ‘I’m no good at this.’

Daryl snorts. ‘Don’t got to do nothing except let me stay in your guestroom for a bit.’

‘Yeah, that’s fine,’ she says as her voice trails off. She’s looking at the clock.

‘Got somewhere you need to be?’

‘No!’

He narrows his eyes at her.

‘Harlan radioed Maggie,’ Tara says with a wince. ‘If she left at dawn, she should be arriving any moment.’

Daryl lets his head hang for a moment, stretching out the muscles until it hurts too much. ‘Yeah, ‘cause that’ll make everything better,’ he mutters before taking a deep breath. ‘Was it on a private channel? Or does everyone know that.... what was going on?’

‘Private channel,’ Tara says softly. ‘Nobody knows what happened yet – other than that there was a search. The Sanctuary offered their help but… it all happened pretty quickly. We reported that everyone was safe and accounted for.’

Daryl nods. ‘Good.’

The radio that’s on Tara’s belt crackles. ‘Car approaching Alexandria, opening the gate,’ someone says through the slight static before breaking up the connection again. Tara tries to look optimistic, ‘right on time.’

‘Why would Maggie come by car?’ Daryl asks as he carefully stands up.

‘Well…’ Tara frowns slightly, ‘it’s quicker…’

‘Eshu is at Hilltop.’

‘Maybe she doesn’t feel comfortable taking your horse. Or she’s bringing Hershel?’ Tara sounds hopeful until she sees the look that Daryl gives her. ‘Whatever the reason, she’s obviously here for you,’ Tara says with a smile as they listen to how a car comes down the main road towards their house.

Daryl frowns. The car goes much slower than he’d expected. He listens to how it idles near a couple of houses down the road and then parks in front of Tara’s. Almost like the driver wasn’t sure which house it was, which is odd…

‘I’ll let her in,’ Tara says, no doubt wanting to prepare Maggie for the sight of him. She walks into the hallway, opens the door and then stays silent for a second.

‘Err…’ An unsure voice comes, ‘Tara, right? They told me that …. Shit, is this the wrong house?’

‘No!’ Tara says quickly, recovering. ‘No, he’s here, in the kitchen. Hi. Yes – Tara. Sorry,’ she moves aside, ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

Taiwo walks into the living room and stops when he sees his boyfriend leaning against the kitchen island. Bloodied and bruised, still covered with grime and sweat. ‘Hey - _Christ_ , what happened?’ He walks closer, reaching out to gently touch Daryl’s chin so he can see the bruises on his face in the light. ‘Maggie called, asked if I could come here… _shit_.’

Daryl can feel that his fingers tremble as he reaches out, touching Taiwo’s armor. It almost surprises him that he can feel the leather, that he’s real and right there.

‘Why are you still wearing your armor?’ Taiwo asks with a frown. He loosens the straps. It allows him to see the full extent of the bruises. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Clearly. This happened yesterday?’

Daryl nods.

‘You think you’re sore now, it’s going to be game over tomorrow,’ Taiwo says, the corner of his mouth quirking up. The smile fades just as quickly. Concern in his dark eyes as he brings his hand up to cup the left side of his boyfriend’s face. ‘Can you tell me?’

Daryl shakes his head.

‘Okay. Can I help you clean up?’ After a small nod, he smiles and taps against Daryl’s non-injured side, ‘lead the way. Do all these houses have the same lay-out?’ he asks curiously as he looks around the kitchen before following Daryl towards the hallway. ‘It reminds me of Michonne’s house, but – whoosh.’ He pretends to rotate a cube in his hands.

‘They’re mirrored,’ Tara says. ‘I’m going to check on… stuff, so… Oh, there are some spare clothes in the guestroom, but I’ll pick some up from your own room on the way back, okay?’

Daryl is glad that Taiwo thanks her because he needs all his focus to get up the stairs without letting a whimper of pain escape him. There’s no point in stalling so he shuffles into the bathroom. Stark white, but at least the towels are dark in this house so he won’t feel too guilty if he messes them up.

Taiwo hums a song under his breath as he closes the door behind them and helps him with his armor. It’s a relief when it finally comes off. The feeling only lasts for a second, then he feels oddly vulnerable, especially when Taiwo helps him to take his wife beater off too before kneeling down without being prompted. Daryl’s fingers curl around his shoulder to keep his balance as his boots and socks are taken off.

Daryl watches him through his eyelashes, feels nervousness tingle in his spine when Taiwo straightens and reaches for his belt. The Dixon leans forward to kiss him. The muscles in his shoulder twinge as he puts his own hands on Taiwo’s belt, trying to tug him close.

A hand on his sternum gently pushes him back.

Taiwo looks confused, eyebrows drawn together as he searches Daryl’s face. ‘Hey,’ he says softly, ‘not everything between us has to be about that, okay?’

Embarrassment causes his chest to become blotchy and the tip of his ears bright red. He tries to laugh it off, looking anywhere but at his friend. ‘Yeah, well – not sure I could get it up anyway, but if you still wanna, you could… y’know.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Taiwo whispers.

‘Well, ain’t much else I can offer you.’ He removes his own belt, unbuttons his jeans with an angry scowl on his face.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You’re always the one helping me. When I’m hurt, or I’m just fucked up –you always need to do all this.’ Daryl says bitterly, ‘I ain’t ever doing anything for you.’

Taiwo quirks an eyebrow. ‘Yeah, because offering me to have my way with you when you’re not feeling it is really helping me out – that’s really something I want. Christ, we’re keeping score now of who does what? Do I need to pay you back because you’re always the one who gets out of bed to turn the light off or something?’

‘This isn’t –‘ he stops himself before his tone of voice turns vicious. A deep breath in. Another out.

‘Take up some space, man,’ Taiwo says. ‘Say what _you_ want. Stop filling in what I might be thinking. _Oh, I’m asking too much, he’s always doing stuff_ – fuck all of that. I’ll tell you if something is bothering me. If it was too much, I wouldn’t have come, but, _shocker_ ; I like taking care of people I love, making sure they’re okay. So let me.’ He makes a fist and gently pushes Daryl’s chin up with his knuckles. ‘ _Let me_. Okay?’

Daryl chews on the inside of his cheek but nods.

There are bruises on his hips, not as angry or deep as the ones on his back, but stark against his pale skin. It feels strange to wait for the water to warm, to watch how Taiwo undresses too and then follow him into the stall. Dirt and blood and sweat mixes with the clear water.

‘Close your eyes.’

Daryl shivers when Taiwo washes his hair, then his shoulders and arms. He’s careful with his chest and back, letting the water do most of the work. Thighs and legs, snorting when it turns out that it tickles when someone else washes your feet. He leans back against cool tiles and is surprised when he doesn’t feel too guilty when Taiwo washes himself quickly.

The towels are rough and Daryl dries his own hair. He’s not sure who’s boxers he’s wearing when he walks to the guestroom, but it doesn’t really matter, he supposes. Nothing matters much when he falls into the soft bed and listens to how Taiwo pads around the room.

The blinds are closed against the bright, morning sun.

He falls asleep while listening to the faint hum of Taiwo’s music.

‘She called you?’

‘Yeah,’ Taiwo’s hand hovers over the small of Daryl’s back in case he missteps, ‘good thing I wasn’t on a run. They’d reported that everyone was back safe and sound, I figured you’d call me in the morning or something. Mason came to get me, I was above, on guard duty.’

‘What did she say?’

‘That something had gone wrong, Harlan had radioed her. She wasn’t sure what had happened but – she thought someone should be with you.’ Taiwo opens the door to the infirmary for him. ‘Have you spoken to her yet?’

Daryl shakes his head. It’s quiet in the infirmary. There’s a bed made, one of the privacy screens has been moved to cover the window up. Enid is standing in front of the medicine cabinet with her clipboard while Harlan sits on a small rolling chair nearby. He’s wearing his regular clothes, with Enid wearing the white coat. She writes something down and closes the door before looking over.

‘Hey Dare.’

Daryl manages to give her a small smile as he walks over to the bed and sits down on it. ‘Hey. Ready when you are.’

She looks slightly nervous as she walks over, putting the clipboard on another bed. ‘Are you sure? Harlan can do it – it doesn’t have to be me.’

‘The more experience, the better, right? Last time I had you lookin’ after me, you pulled my ass back to the land of the living after bleeding all over you. So nah, don’t mind it being you.’

Taiwo puts his hand on Daryl’s shoulder for a second, ‘I’ll hang out outside. Just call me if you need me.’

The corner of Daryl’s mouth twists up. ‘Knife, bow, holler.’

‘What?’

‘It’s nothing,’ Daryl assures him. ‘I’ll be fine.’ He watches how Taiwo walks out, his shadow moving over the screen as he rounds the building to sit in the shade. Then he turns back to Enid, who’s grabbing some gloves.

‘You really should have come in yesterday, or this morning,’ Enid says softly.

Daryl snorts. ‘Work on your bedside manner, doc. I’m here now.’

‘Can you take your shirt off?’

‘If you help.’ He groans when she pulls the fabric up, revealing his bruised and battered chest.

She already leans forward to look at his lower-back, ‘can I see-‘

‘Maybe you should ask him where’s it’s hurting?’ Harlan offers from the side-lines. ‘What caused his injuries?’

‘I know what happ-‘ Enid meets Daryl’s eye, mouth snapping into a thin line as if she’s afraid she has said too much. There’s fear there. She’s familiar with his outbursts, when things are unfair or when he’s feeling like everything is spinning out of his control or in situations like this – when he feels violated.

There’s no anger roaring in his veins though. He’s just as surprised to find himself relaxing, relieved that he doesn’t have to say – doesn’t have to explain. So he tries to straighten a bit, ‘my lower back hurts something fierce, and… the bruises – my ribs. Got thrown around some, so got some muscle ache but it’s – Tai got me to walk around and it got better, so that ain’t nothing to worry about. I think. Right, doc?’

Enid gives him a small smile. ‘Right. Can I see the burn?’

Harlan’s eyebrows shoot up but Daryl glides off the table so he can turn around, offers her his lower-back where the X is etched into his skin. There’s no infection, the pain will disappear soon enough, she judges after gently examining the skin. It feels strange to be touched by her, so clinical and precise as she prods at his bruises, the ribs, checks his lungs. Harlan sometimes scoots a bit closer to have a look himself but he never reaches out and doesn’t correct her.

The only time when her mask cracks is when she asks about his kidney. ‘So, err… no – is there any trace of blood when you… err, went to the bathroom to… urinate?’

Daryl sucks on his teeth to hide the smile. ‘Piss is clear, doc.’

She instantly blushes but smacks his bare upper arm. ‘Dare!’

He laughs. ‘Sorry. I’m tryin’ to be a good patient, promise. You’ve done any weird medical trials yet?’ he asks while she checks the bruise on his face. ‘There was a guy, in our town, before. Everyone said he signed up for some dodgy ass trial to get some quick cash. Went in and never came out.’

Enid frowns.

‘Might have just gone to jail,’ Daryl admits. ‘Nothing much happened in that town, had to make your own fun with the rumors, I guess.’

She rolls her eyes at him. ‘No weird trials yet.’ After some more prodding, she steps back and takes her gloves off. ‘No infections, no broken bones. Some bruised ribs, but they should heal fine over time. Sorry, there’s not much I can do. Just try to take it easy.’

He laughs, ‘well, thank God I came in, right? Who knows what might have happened without your help.’ He wants to bite off his tongue when he sees her face fall. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to be an ass. Thanks for having a look. Can you write me a note or something that I’ve been to see you? Weren’t that a thing, back in the day? A doctor’s note so I won’t have to do P.E.?’

She gives him a look. ‘You can’t do _P.E._ , Dare. Rest.’ She chews on her lip for a second, ‘I can give you some pain killers. We might have some muscle relaxers.’

‘Save it for the next guy.’ He holds his shirt out to her, ‘help?’ When it’s on, he turns to Harlan, ‘so, how did she do?’

‘Excellent.’ The doctor gets up and gives Enid a small smile, ‘finish up. I’ll let Taiwo back in and go see how Sammy is doing today. See you soon, Daryl.’

Daryl sits down on the bed again. ‘Hey,’ he says when Enid walks away to throw the gloves into the trash, ‘I really didn’t mean it like that. I knew there wasn’t much you could do, but everyone was kind of on edge so… wanted to give them some piece of mind that I’m okay. Got seen by Doctor Enid and she said I were fine,’ he grins as he gently swings his feet back and forth.

‘Are you though?’ Enid asks.

‘No broken bones, no infections,’ Daryl says with a shrug. ‘Got a broken brain, but it ain’t so bad this time. Last night were bad, I was just… in shock. Like… _what the fuck_ , you know? _You killed a bunch of kids_?’

Enid sits down on the bed opposite him. ‘Yeah…’

‘They just kept coming at us. Carl tried to talk them down of course, tried to get them to back off, but…. It was us or them, in the end. And it’s always gonna be us,’ he says before shivering. ‘There was this girl – she was running away. Got scared – of course she did, she saw us murder her friends and-‘

The door opens.

Enid looks up, ‘Tai, sorry, we’re not done yet.’ The door closes again and Enid nods. ‘Go on.’

‘I killed her,’ Daryl says. ‘She was running away, I could have let her go but I threw my knife and… I just killed her, too.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I wanted to.’

Enid cocks her head to the side.

Daryl bites on the inside of his cheek. ‘What if she came back? Five minutes later, and Carl were getting a radio while I checked Marcus over – she could have killed Judith. Twenty minutes later and she threw a spear, could have killed Carl. Hell, five _years_ later, could have done anything to us. It only takes one of them – getting away, to… I didn’t want to live with that. I wanted her dead.’

Enid doesn’t look horrified. Just patient, as she waits for him to continue.

It’s easy to talk to her, because she already knows that there’s something horribly wrong with him. There’s no point in pretending or trying to fool her. With Harlan, he’d always wanted him to announce that he was cured at the end of a visit. But acceptance has crept into his own mind; this is who he is. And maybe he’s finally coming to terms with what Merle said years ago, when his brother had tried to understand his bond with Negan. It’s a good thing to have the devil watching over you.

Except it’s him, watching over others. And the devil? It might not be such a bad thing when Judith is safe, or when Enid will still meet his eye, and Taiwo isn’t scared of him or his wrath.

He _is_ sorry, but not for what he has done. He’s sorry that the world made those kids who they were, that they were manipulated and never found by someone who loved them, and who made them strong enough to resist the ways of the new world.

‘God,’ Daryl says as he wipes a hand over his face. ‘Sorry, you didn’t need to hear all that shit.’ There’s no answer. He swings his feet, chews on the inside of his cheek and then looks up. ‘I mean – thanks for listening.’

Enid smiles. ‘Of course. Do you want to get out of here?’

‘I need a smoke.’

‘Then you need to get out of here.’

A new structure has been built at one side of the lake. There’s a long wooden catwalk with small watermills, four in total that keep on spinning and spinning since water is made to pour down on it from several hoses. It’s a smart system, and Daryl doesn’t doubt that Eugene had a big hand in it. The man has been sent to the Kingdom to figure out a solution for their many problems.

Daryl is standing on the edge of the lake as he smokes his cigarette. When he’d stepped out of the infirmary, he hadn’t been able to find Taiwo right away, but now he’s looking at his boyfriend’s back. The honey-colored armor stark against his dark skin, hair a natural halo, posture a bit awkward as he leans to the side.

Judith is sitting next to him. So much smaller, tiny in fact because she’s curled into a little ball of sharp elbows and knees, her arms wrapped around her shins. The sheriff’s hat hides her face, but Daryl can just imagine the pout there.

Daryl can’t hear what they’re talking about over the rushing of the water. Instead, he looks out over the lake, eyes narrowed against the sharp reflection of the sun. There’s a soft noise behind him. The scrape of a boot on the sharp stones. ‘I’m still kind of sad that you never saw me set this thing on fire,’ Daryl says as the smoke escapes from his lungs. ‘A damn shame.’

‘Sorry that I was too busy dying at the time.’ Carl steps up beside him.

‘Yeah, well, you’ve always had piss poor timing.’ Daryl flashes him a small smile to take the sting out of the words. When it fades again, he asks; ‘are you okay?’

His brother nods. ‘Yeah. We did what we had to do, right?’

‘Yes.’ Daryl takes another drag of his cigarette. ‘Weren’t no other way, right?’

‘No,’ Carl assures him. ‘There wasn’t. I’m sorry you were there, that you got caught up in this, but…At the same time, I’m also really glad you were there, you know?’

‘Yeah. Same.’ The cigarette falls into the grass and is stomped out by his boot. He takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back while looking out over the lake. ‘ _Taiwo! Judith_!’’

The pair looks over their shoulders.

‘Come on!’ He puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans and kicks at a loose clump of dirt so it thuds into the lake. ‘Let’s go home, I’m starving.’

Taiwo wipes some sauce off his chin before shaking his head. ‘No ma’am. She asked but I wasn’t sure whether you’d be okay with it. Daryl was still in the infirmary and I wanted to wait for him, that’s why I didn’t come over to double-check. Judith said you were fine with it, but…’

‘I am not.’

Taiwo winces at the cold tone of Michonne’s voice. ‘Okay. Well, I didn’t teach her anything, so… that’s… good. A dao is different from a katana anyway.’

There’s another awkward and tense silence. They’re sitting around Michonne’s dinner table. Upstairs, Enid is putting Judith to bed while Daryl and Carl play with the last bites of their food. They keep shooting glances at each other, kicking each other in the shins, lifting eyebrows to urge the other to start talking.

Carl kicks him again.

Daryl slams his fork down, ‘so she took the kids to that school that’s on the way to the southern border. We split up to circle and search the building and-‘

The story is abrupt because he doesn’t want to tell it but he also thinks they deserve to know. From here, it will spread like an oil stain through the community. Michonne will tell the other parents, just in case the kids mention something. The woman is silent as she listens to the story, Taiwo slowly cleans his plate, only occasionally looking up to meet Daryl’s eye to show that he’s still listening.

‘- and Tara and Rosita picked us all up from there.’

There’s silence.

Michonne looks so sorry, eyes on Carl who refuses to look up from cleaning his fingernails.

Daryl works his jaw, the tips of his fingers pushing hard against the surface of the table until his whole hand cramps up.

‘Can I have some more, please?’

Everyone looks at Taiwo, who points at the salad.

‘Ain’t costing you no points here, right?’ Daryl says with a smirk, glad that the subject is changed immediately and the room feels lighter. He leans over and pushes the salad bowl to his boyfriend.

Taiwo hums and then frowns, pointing his fork at Daryl. ‘You shut up.’

‘Speaking about points, by the way,’ the Dixon says as he leans back in his chair, barely repressing a smile, ‘something strange has been happening. Every time I leave Washington, I’ve got a bunch of points left, right? And then I come back, and it’s all gone.’

‘How strange,’ Carl says with a grin.

Daryl nods, ‘even stranger, every time I come back my boyfriend’s a bit fatter, too.’

Taiwo snorts and aims a kick at him under the table, laughing when he accidentally hits Carl instead. ‘Sorry, man, but you were laughing too. Yeah! _Fine_ , I use your points when you’re gone. It’s not that big of a deal. You _barely_ do any work so there are hardly any points left – _ow_!’ He rubs at his own shin where Daryl managed to kick him.

‘What if I come by and they won’t give me an advance on my points, huh?’ Daryl asks while he laughs. ‘I arrive late, cold, _starving,_ not able to buy an food.’

‘ _Aahw_ ,’ Taiwo coos, ‘I’ll buy you half a sandwich when that happens, baby, don’t you worry.’

The table almost falls silent when Michonne laughs softly at them. It’s been a while since anyone heard that sound. Carl leans forward to look at her. ‘Is that what that is? A sugar daddy? You said it had something to do with buying stuff for-‘

Michonne folds her hand over her mouth and shakes her head while laughing. ‘No, shush!’

‘ _Sugar daddy_?’ Daryl asks while scrunching up his nose. ‘Why does that sound – _what do you talk about with your mom_?’

‘ _Best friend_ ,’ Carl corrects, already laughing before even seeing the outrage on his brother’s face.

‘I almost forgot about – this is fucking bullshit, and you know it,’ Daryl laughs as he gets up. ‘No – you know what? That’s fine, because _you_ ’re not my best friend either. I’ve got loads of other friends. _Best friends_! Come on,’ he grabs Taiwo’s hand and drags him out of the seat. ‘We hate him. We’re going to my room.’ For a second, he hesitates on the first step of the stairs. Whether it’s his room, or Michonne would rather have him continue to stay at Tara’s, or – ‘Come on,’ he repeats, tightening his grip on Taiwo’s hand and running upstairs as Michonne and Carl’s laughter fades.


	19. Nothing to say

* * *

‘I’m sorry, by the way,’ Taiwo says as he loosens his armor and sits down on the chair to unlace his boots. ‘I didn’t mean to change the subject so quickly – make a joke about it. Christ,’ he runs a hand through his curls before looking at his boyfriend, who is sitting in the windowsill. ‘That was messed up. I’m sorry it happened to you. And Carl, of course.’

Daryl looks out over Alexandria. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he mutters as he watches how guards slowly walk their rounds. ‘I was glad you changed the subject.’

‘Can I say something… weird?’

The blue eyes snap to brown ones. He shifts his weight, moves his jaw and tries to shrug nonchalantly, unsure of what to expect. ‘Sure,’ he says before taking a drag of his cigarette, ‘whatever.’

‘You seem to be doing …. Well, not _fine_ , but… okay.’

The corner of Daryl’s mouth shoots up as he relaxes against the window frame, enjoying the last sunrays. ‘Is the bar really that low?’ He traps the smoke in his lungs for a long time before breathing out again, ‘guess you’re right. Didn’t hurt myself. On purpose at least,’ he adds as he looks at the imprint on his arm. ‘Didn’t try to feed myself to a walker. I haven’t even tried to get you naked today, so yeah – everything’s going great.’

‘Don’t be a dick,’ Taiwo warns.

Daryl smiles as he watches how his boyfriend kicks his boots off and puts his armor on the floor. ‘Sorry. No, you’re right.’ He looks out of the window again, ‘I don’t know… guess it’s easier to take a life than to lose one. Us or them. Hell, that’s something Will were teaching me even before it all went to shit, so maybe that’s why my brain short-circuits when I lose one of ‘em. It ain’t supposed to be one of us.’

Taiwo puts the dao on the desk, his radio next to it, the volume soft. There’s some static that comes through before a soldier from the Kingdom checks into a safe house on the way to Oceanside. All of it is just white noise to them these days.

‘The first time I went out to kill someone, I was thirteen years old. And I’ve been doing it since. Maybe you even get used to that.’ He ends his cigarette on the stone and flicks it into the garden. ‘It was bad, right after. We led our kids away, made them close their eyes so they wouldn’t see nothing, but… damn. They were just kids, man. Rosita stayed with me.’ A humorless smirk plays around his lips. ‘Suicide watch.’

‘I’m glad she was there.’

‘Me too.’ Daryl gets up and closes the window. ‘Ain’t no point in lingering on it now. Fucked up shit happens all the time. You gotta carry what you cause.’

‘I guess so.’

‘Sorry they made you come all this way,’ Daryl says, ‘but I’m real glad you did.’

Taiwo nods, ‘of course.’ It’s still so odd to hear Michonne’s voice on the radio, that it causes them both to look at the device. His boyfriend shifts when she calls for a private line and fidgets with the fraying end of his shirt before he looks up. ‘So now what? Heal up and back to work?’

Daryl snorts. ‘I guess… There’s something I want to do first though.’

‘And what’s that?’

Daryl hesitates. He wobbles on the balls of his feet and then brings up his hand to bite on a nail. ‘Wanna go home.’

Taiwo’s eyebrows shoot up for a second, ‘which home?’

The bike kicks up a lot of dust on the last corner. He’s glad that the gate has already been opened. For the first time, he’s eager to get off the vehicle. While Enid had advised against riding it, he didn’t want to leave it behind. He’s paying for it now. The vibrations and his posture makes it feel like his back and shoulders are on fire. It had started out as a nagging sensation when they left Alexandria, but now he kind of regrets not riding with Taiwo, who’s right behind him in the car.

A bonus for the bike, however, is that it’s loud. His arrival doesn’t go unnoticed. While he normally dislikes the stares, it’s easy to dismiss them now. He steps away from the bike and walks out of the garage to hear quick, unsteady footsteps coming down the long drive-way.

‘ _Da_!’

Daryl sinks to his knees and catches Hershel when the little boy barrels into him. He hugs him tightly, breathing the kid in, and laughs when the boy pushes at his leather’s clad chest with the palms of his hands to force his big brother back. Big, brown eyes stare up at him.

‘What’s that?’ Daryl asks as he looks down to see that Hershel is pointing at his knee. It’s slightly red. ‘Did you hurt your knee? Oh, man, that sucks. I’m sorry, little dude.’

Hershel brings his fist up to his mouth, as if unsure whether he should suck on his thumb or not.

‘Did you fall?’

Hershel nods.

‘Off the stairs, or were you tryin’ to ride Eshu while I were gone, hmm? Did you fall off of Eshu?’

The little boy smiles behind his clenched fist and then abruptly points at the stables.

Daryl laughs and scoops the boy up, which causes him to giggle and hold onto him tightly. ‘Yeah, that’s right. That’s where Eshu lives, good job.’ With a grunt, he gets up, ignoring the pain in his back.

‘Wow, he’s gotten big!’ Taiwo says with a breath of amazed laughter.

Hershel’s eyes go big when he sees the other teenager, hands shooting up to grab hold of Daryl’s neck, pressing himself close to his big brother. The sudden movement almost causes Daryl’s jaw to hit the boy in the head.

‘Ahw,’ Daryl says as he hitches Hershel higher onto his chest, ‘ain’t no need to be shy. You know him – that’s Taiwo. We like him. _A lot_. A lot, a lot, a lot,’ Daryl says while he peppers the boy’s face with kisses until the child is shrieking with joy and trying to push him away. ‘Come on, let’s go home, huh?’

After a couple of steps, Hershel points at Taiwo’s back.

‘Yeah, that’s my crossbow. He’s carrying it for me. That’s very nice of him.’

The little boy seems to mull that over until something else catches his eye, or someone else, rather. An excited little noise escapes him as he points up the driveway again.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl says as he looks. ‘That’s mom. Let’s go say hi.’

Maggie is standing near the flowerbeds. One hand shielding her eyes from the sun so she can watch how her two sons make their way up the driveway, one arm curled around her own stomach as if she’s trying to give herself some comfort. She rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet, until she can’t hold herself back anymore. With hurried steps, she makes her way over to them.

‘Dare,’ she says, stopping a few feet away from him, unsure of his reaction, ‘it’s good to see-‘ She freezes. It looks like she can’t even breathe. Her eyes grow wide as her hands begin to shake and all color disappears from her face. Pure horror. The likes of which he hasn’t seen in a very long time.

‘What’s wrong?‘ he steps closer to her, concerned, first looking at Hershel to see if there’s something wrong, only seeing his own – ‘it’s not – I’m not bit! It’s not a bite,’ he says hurriedly, feeling stupid after seeing the fading imprint on his arm. ‘It’s mine – I did it. I did it,’ he repeats when Maggie relaxes.

Her eyes still fill with tears though, a shaking hand comes up to cover her mouth.

‘I’m sorry,’ Daryl says as he puts Hershel down and takes a hesitant step towards his mom, unsure of how she’ll react, one hand reaching out to touch her shoulder. For a second, he feels just as awkward as Eugene always does when trying to comfort someone, tapping them rhythmically on their shoulder until they stop crying, but Maggie surges forward and hugs him. He catches her weight, holds her close as she cries.

‘Michonne said you were hurt,’ Maggie says between sobs. ‘I know she didn’t – she would have said if… Oh my god.’

‘It’s so faint, I didn’t even think about warning you, I’m sorry,’ Daryl says. Then he huffs out a breath of amazed laughter, ‘I can’t believe you spotted that.’

Maggie isn’t laughing when she leans back, cheeks wet and eyes red as she looks at him, one hand touching the side of his face carefully, ‘she said you were hurt…?’

‘Oh,’ he vaguely waves at the bruise, ‘this, a bit. It’s my back again for the most part though, but nothing broken – just bruises. Enid checked me over. _Yes_ ,’ he says with a small smile when she opens her mouth, ‘Harlan, did too. _Hey_ ,’ he says when the smile isn’t mirrored on her face, ‘I’m okay.’

She shakes her head and draws him close again, trembling hands on his armor, covering the scars and bruises. The sobs wreck her body, and not for the first time, Daryl wonders what they’ve done to each other. He’s almost glad when Hershel starts crying, too. With a gentle hand, he urges Maggie back to look down at his baby brother, feet on top of each other, one plump fist almost stuffed into his mouth, eyes closed as he starts to wail.

‘Monkey see, monkey do, huh?’ Daryl says as he picks the little boy up. ‘I thought it only works when they have to eat their greens. Good lord.’

It causes Maggie to chuckle softly as she wipes her tears away. ‘I wish. Sorry,’ she pulls the hem of her shirt up to dry her cheeks before reaching out to touch Taiwo’s upper arm, ‘sorry - hey. It’s good to see you.’

Taiwo laughs. ‘Hey, yeah – thanks for letting me stay again.’

‘C’mon,’ Daryl roughly wipes Hershel’s tears away, too. It shocks him out of his tantrum. ‘See? We’re fine. Tough as nails, now.’ The little boy slumps against his shoulder so he can fidget with the necklaces that are partly hiding beneath the Dixon’s armor. ‘Let’s get out of the heat, hmm?’

Five minutes later, they’re all awkwardly standing around Maggie’s office. Even though he’d planned on making a quick escape to his room, Daryl can’t bear leaving Maggie when she still seems so anxious. She’s stacking letters now to make space at her desk, but she doesn’t sit down. The sound of her wringing hands sets Daryl’s teeth on edge.

At least Taiwo got away safely with an excuse of bringing their gear up to Daryl’s room. Hershel is on the ground, making all kinds of humming noises while racing a wooden train around on the old carpet. Sometimes he’ll shriek with joy when it bumps into things, whether it’s the leg of a chair or Daryl’s boot.

‘I’m glad you came here,’ Maggie says and he hates that it sounds like a peace offering, ‘for a little while, at least.’

‘Yeah.’ He decides to sit down on one of the chairs. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll stay, but… yeah.’

‘Of course.’

He shifts so his back doesn’t touch the wood. ‘Thanks for asking Taiwo to come down.’ The _instead of coming yourself_ hangs between them.

She winces. ‘Sure.’

There’s a painful silence.

‘RJ is pretty great,’ Daryl says because he doesn’t want to add to the sadness and awkwardness by recounting what he has done, or why Michonne had thought it necessary for someone to come down to keep an eye on him. ‘Got to hold him a couple of times. ‘s weird, held plenty of babies by now but I’m weirded out every time.’

Maggie blinks and then frowns, like she doesn’t understand.

‘They’re so _small_.’

A surprised chuckle escapes her. ‘Yeah…’ she sits down behind the desk, fingers nervously fidgeting with a letter. ‘You think they’re small now, do you remember when Judith was born?’

‘Big-ass baby,’ Daryl laughs. ‘I don’t know, everyone, like before she was born? Everyone kept telling me that babies were so small, so tiny – I don’t know what I was expecting to come out, honestly,’ he laughs. ‘Size of a mouse. So yeah, she were pretty big in my eyes then.’

‘How is Judith?’

Daryl works his jaw and then nods, ‘she’s good. The terrible-two’s are coming in late though, or she’s being a teen before her time, once that girl’s got her mind stuck on something? Good lord. There were hell to pay for me earlier for turning up without Eshu – she wants to learn how to ride.’ He laughs again and shakes his head, ‘little hell-raiser. She almost got Taiwo exiled.’

Maggie smiles and leans back in her chair, ‘why’s that?’

‘She’d asked for a lesson with the sword, said Michonne were fine with it. Good thing Tai double-checked. Guess me sneaking around behind everyone’s backs paid off that time, huh? He learned to check, just to be sure.’

That makes Maggie laugh. ‘Oh, that used to drive Shane and Glenn crazy. _Shane said I could go hunting, open up the gate_ ,’ she parrots, voice high to mimic him when he was younger. ‘Cue Shane in a panic twenty minutes later, trying to find you. What a disaster.’

Daryl grins. ‘Oh, the good old days when we didn’t have enough walkie-talkies.’

‘ _I found a guy_.’

His own words mimicked back to him from so long ago make him laugh. ‘Oh, Shane was _pissed_ when he found out Rick had answered that call. _Get your lil’ ass home!’_ Daryl laughs, one hand coming up to cover his eyes for a moment. ‘Good lord. I don’t even remember how Glenn reacted.’

‘I don’t think he said anything during that meeting, but when we were back in our cell…?’ Maggie chuckles and shakes her head. ‘ _He found a_ guy _? How does he find a guy out there? How does he keep getting into situations like that?_ ’ She makes flustered hand-gestured that are so familiar that it makes Daryl’s heart soar.

There’s a soft knock on the door. Taiwo seems hesitant to enter at first, gaze bouncing back and forth between his boyfriend and the leader of Hilltop, before his posture relaxes and he closes the door behind him. The smile is small but genuine, warm when he walks over to take the second chair, mirroring Daryl’s relaxed posture.

He looks like he wants to ask what was so funny, what made the Dixon laugh like that, but a shy smile towards Maggie suffices.

‘Old memories,’ Maggie tells him. ‘Some things never change.’

Even Daryl’s eyebrows draw together, not quite understanding what she means, the joy slowly seeping away.

‘Daryl finding guys by the side of the road, for example.’

Taiwo’s laugh is bright and loud, so sudden that it reminds Daryl of thunder in the best way. ‘You know what,’ he says with a smirk at the Dixon before he turns to Maggie, leaning on one armrest, ‘it’s great to have him at Washington, but visiting his family…. You hear such _interesting_ stories.’

‘’s blackmail, ‘s what it is,’ Daryl says with a huff of laughter. A grimace flashes over his face as he gets up, one hand briefly curling around the armrest, knuckles going white due to the pressure, before he walks towards the door. ‘Gotta piss.’ Fingertips ghost over Taiwo’s shoulder to make sure he stays seated. He doesn’t need the offered help.

When he steps out into the hallway, someone sitting on a small bench nearby looks up quickly. Eyes wide, anxious, narrowing quickly as the gaze meet the Dixon’s. The mouth snaps closed as Dante sits up, trying to appear to be casual. ‘Daryl. _Hey_.’ He adds a lame wave for good measure, ‘it’s – ehh, it’s good to see you. I’m just… cleaning my riding boots.’

Daryl narrows his eyes. ‘In the house. Maggie’s gonna fuckin’ kill ya.’

‘Yeah…’ Dante blinks sheepishly. ‘I heard the bike. People said you were in there with her, so I thought it would be best to… stay nearby.’

‘You could have just come in.’

‘I wasn’t sure if…’

Daryl shakes his head and scoffs, ‘get your ass in there, might as well make it a damn family reunion. I gotta take a piss.’ The corner of his mouth quirks up when he hears the door to Maggie’s study open and close behind him, leaving the hallway empty, except for Dante’s abandoned boots.

The sun is starting to go down when Daryl slowly makes his way over to the old picnic table that’s located beside Paul’s trailer. They used to have breakfast up and around it, when his whole family had stayed in the tiny trailer during the war. There’s on old grill right beside the entrance where they would cook during winter, hopping in and out of the warmth of the cabin to grab their meat when Gregory didn’t want them in the big house.

Paul’s sitting at the table now. Hair up in a messy bun and book tilted so he can catch the last sunrays that come from over the wall to see the ink on the yellow pages. He looks up when he hears the approaching footsteps on the grass. He seems surprised. ‘Daryl – hi.’

‘Hi,’ Daryl echoes as he sits down opposite the scout on the bench.

‘While I always enjoy your company,’ Paul says as he puts the book aside, ‘shouldn’t you be out there, with Hershel?’

‘Been chasing Kiss all afternoon, he’s already asleep,’ Daryl says with a small smile. He glances over his shoulder where he can vaguely see Dante’s silhouette on the porch, cradling a small, sleepy boy against his broad chest. ‘I suppose I gotta be grateful Maggie ain’t got no embarrassing baby pictures to show Tai. She’s gotta run out of fucking stories about me at some point. I’m just waiting it out over here.’

‘You’d think she would,’ Paul muses, ‘but Aaron just joined the group, so there’s a fresh supply.’

‘As long as you don’t head over, I’m all good.’ Daryl turns back to the scout. He smiles when Paul meets his eye.

‘It’s good to see you.’

Daryl nods. He plucks at his fingernails. ‘Yeah – thanks. Look, you can tell me to fuck off if you’re busy, but… the way we left things last time? ‘nd at Washington before that? I don’t like it when things ain’t right between us.’ He shifts in his seat, brings up a hand to gnaw on his knuckle. ‘It’s easier to fight with Carl. Trade some haymakers, get it out of our system.’

Paul lifts an amused eyebrow. ‘And who wins that fight normally?’

Daryl smirks.

‘Yeah I don’t see us doing that any time soon.’

‘Nobody would win that fight.’

This time both of Paul’s eyebrows go up. He tries to look innocent.

‘Yeah _right_ ,’ Daryl leans forward, ‘you think _you_ would win? Asshole. See? This is why we can only be freaky friends, never normal ones.’ He smiles and kicks Paul’s foot lightly. Then he sobers. ‘I’m serious though. I’ve been thinking about what you said, but I weren’t testing her, or setting her up to fail so I could be mad some more. I don’t want this either, but not everything is fixed by being _sorry_.’

Paul sighs and lowers his gaze. ‘Nothing gets fixed by staying angry either.’

‘I know that.’ Daryl plays with his necklaces for a second before pulling his shirt collar down so the edges of his scars are visible. ‘You know my dad did this, right? Whenever he’d do it, he’d say he were teaching me a lesson, acting like he were doing me favor. Drunk,’ Daryl says when Paul opens his mouth, ‘high, methed-out, just fucking pissed. Didn’t matter. The next morning, he’d see the blood, new scars… he’d be so sorry.’

Paul closes his eyes.

‘That ain’t how you love. ‘s what Glenn taught me.’

‘You can’t compare Maggie to-‘

‘You don’t get to be _just_ sorry,’ Daryl says.

‘So you ran away, you vanished and then didn’t come back for _weeks_ – how is that right?’ Paul snaps. ‘What else do you want her to do then? She called the meeting, she’s setting up trade-deals, we’re all helping the Kingdom get back on its feet. I know it wasn’t fair on you,’ he says, voice softer now, ‘but have some mercy on her.’

‘I don’t need her to do anything else. I just needed some time.’

Paul shrugs and shakes his head at the same time. He looks away.

Daryl follows one of the nerves on the wood with his fingernail. ‘It’s getting better.’ He glances over his shoulder to check on Taiwo, who seems to be talking to Luke now, ‘though I don’t know how I feel about her telling all those stories. She told Taiwo about that one time Judith made me cry. That’s just below the belt.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Paul asks, the corners of his mouth curling up, ‘the one time Judith did what now?’

Daryl’s eyes widen. ‘Nothing.’

‘Right,’ Paul gives him a pointed look. ‘I’m glad it’s getting better. It wasn’t that things weren’t right between us…. It’s hard to be in the middle. Maggie’s my best friend,’ he says, ‘and you’re…’

‘ _The love of your life_.’

Paul looks less than impressed. ‘A freaky friend,’ he replies dryly.

Daryl sniggers. ‘Sure. Nah, I mean, I get that, but… there’s an easy solution, right?’

‘Stop sticking my nose in?’

Daryl clacks his tongue and finger-guns him down.

Paul smiles. ‘It’s not that easy though. I care a lot about both of you. I hate to see you two suffer like that.’

‘I know.’

Paul looks at him, blue eyes sad. ‘I’m glad you came here, after… We thought you’d go straight back to Washington. What happened at Alexandria? There was a search, some kids gone missing? When Michonne called for us to send someone down…. It didn’t make any sense.’

‘I’m sorry you were worried,’ Daryl says, voice clipped as he gets up. ‘See you around.’

‘What is it now?’ Paul asks as he gets up, too. ‘A new forbidden topic? You want things to be okay between us but I’m not allowed to-‘

‘I killed a bunch of kids,’ Daryl says. There’s a short silence, filled with only echoes. ‘There was a woman, she turned out to be an old friend of Michonne. A miracle, right? Just strolled up, and she let her in, let her stay – gave her a house, everything. Then Judith disappeared, along with the other kids from Alexandria. Carl and I found them. We fucked up, got caught, got strung up from some pipes. They branded us like cattle.’

Paul sits back down, face pale.

‘We got out though. Killed the woman first, then all her kids. _Sometimes_ ,‘ Daryl’s voice rises in pitch as his hands start to shake, ‘sometimes it’s not _you_ looking out for _me_ , okay? Sometimes I don’t want to tell you things because I don’t want you thinking about them. The ugly things. You hear so much shit, _all the time_. Learn to trust me when I say; I’m fine, _because you don’t have to hear all that shit. You_ don’t.’

Paul shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. He gets up and walks around the table. His hand comes up to touch Daryl’s neck, hooking behind it before softly dragging him into an embrace.

Daryl leans against the man’s shoulder, shaking hands on hips before they slide up the leather jacket to cover his shoulder blades, hugging the scout as his eyes start to burn.

‘It’s okay,’ Paul says softly.

‘Carl _screamed_ , man.’ His fingers dig into the leather as he starts to cry. ‘Ain’t ever heard him scream like that – God.’

There are running footsteps behind them.

Paul’s hold on him stiffens.

‘Oh – I … I heard him raise his voice,’ Taiwo says. ‘I thought something was wrong.’

‘He’s fine,’ Paul mutters.

‘I can see that.’

Daryl tightens his hold on Paul for a second before stepping back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. ‘God damn, can’t even have a good cry without someone checking on me.’ He tries to laugh it off. ‘Look, Paul’s still alive, and the only thing I got to fear from him is a bruised ego.’

The corner of Paul’s mouth shoots up for a second.

‘Right,’ Taiwo says as he wobbles on the balls of his feet, ‘I was just making sure.’

‘Thanks,’ Daryl waves at him distractedly, ‘but I’m good. Go talk to the other music geek,’ he pushes weakly at Paul’s shoulder. ‘C’mon, let’s walk a bit.’

Paul follows him wordlessly. They cross between the trailers to walk along the wall. All around them, torches are being lit and placed just below the wall, near baskets with arrows and spears should the guards need them. Every couple of minutes, Daryl hears the twang of a bow from up above, signaling that someone took out a stray walker before they can make too much noise by bumping into the metal.

A couple of guards raise their hands at the sight of him. They always look on the verge of saying something, asking something, before they turn back to look out over the darkness beyond.

‘He meant well,’ Paul says softly.

‘Taiwo? Of course he did. I’m just getting tired of it. Rosita on suicide watch, Tara following my ass ‘round town, Enid constantly _just stopping by_ ,’ he makes a flustered gesture with his hands like she used to do before shaking his head. ‘Dante were sitting in the damn hallway, making sure Maggie ‘nd I didn’t murder each other.’

‘Nobody is scared of that, but you’re vicious when you’re angry.’

‘Yeah.’

Paul puts his hands in the pockets of his coat. ‘You don’t need to protect me from anything, you know that, right? You can tell me.’

‘Threw it all in your face already.’ Daryl rummages through his pockets and lights a cigarette. ‘Every time something like this happens, I’m like… damn, wish we were back at Alexandria, at the beginning, you know? But that was a bunch of bullshit, too. Wish we were back on the road. Bullshit. The prison. Went to hell.’

Paul makes a small noise. ‘You’ve got to look for the small moments.’

‘That’s harder.’

‘Yes.’

Daryl smokes his cigarette. When he reaches the filter, he drops it in the grass and makes sure it’s out before moving on. His hand shoots out to tap on Paul’s upper arm, ‘hey. Remember when we rode out to see where the whisperers had gone? We talked about everything before, you said you thought I’d enjoy going out to the club.’

Paul frowns, not quite understanding. ‘Yes?’

‘You were right! It’s _loud_. In Washington, right before RJ was born,’ Daryl says with a laugh when Paul still looks utterly confused, ‘Taiwo and them took me to a party – a _club_! There was music, they had these lights – couldn’t see shit, but it was fun. Got used to it after a while though.’

‘Yeah?’ a huff of amazed laughter escapes Paul when he sees the excited look on the younger man’s face. ‘Did you like it?’

‘ _Yeah_!’ Daryl laughs, ‘it was kinda embarrassing though – I didn’t know how to dance and shit. Tai ‘nd Makie taught me. Felix kept telling me all this stuff – people who’d hooked up ‘nd shit, it was _crazy_. They had these lights, right up on the ceiling and-‘

Even after all this time, it still strikes Daryl as odd to see Taiwo in his room. The bag in a corner, not unpacked which leaves half of his shelves bare. The dao is leaning precariously against the edge of his desk. There are boots standing neatly near the door while his own spare pair has been kicked under the bed a long time ago. Everything just a little bit too neat to be homely.

The man is standing on sock-clad feet on the balcony.

‘Hey,’ Daryl says as he steps up behind his boyfriend, hugging him. He doesn’t need to stand on the tips of his toes to let his chin rest on the broad shoulder, but it’s a near thing. ‘I didn’t know you’d gone upstairs already. You should have called me. Ain’t no need to be up here alone.’

‘You were talking to Jesus. I could hear you laughing from all the way over there. Didn’t want to interrupt. Again.’

Daryl frowns, ‘you joining us ain’t interrupting nothing. Look, we’ve been through a lot of shit together, me ‘nd Paul, so when he hugged me ‘nd I… it don’t mean nothing, you know?’

Taiwo shakes him off and turns around. ‘What? No. I didn’t think anything of it.’

‘Oh. Good.’

‘Should I?’

‘No!’

Taiwo looks suspicious. ‘Why would you say that then?’

‘Because everyone’s always on some bullshit with me ‘nd Paul, I was just making sure.’

‘Oh, no,’ Taiwo sits down on the balustrade. ‘I was just making sure you didn’t strangle him, last time you spoke to him, you were killing walkers for over three hours to cool off. It’s good that you two made up.’

Daryl nods. He walks over and parts Taiwo’s legs so he can stand between them, fingers scratching at the denim absentmindedly. After a couple of moments, he laughs softly, glances up to his boyfriend through his bangs. ‘Well, Maggie’s trying real hard.’

Taiwo laughs. ‘Yeah. It kind of reminds me of whenever my grandmother came to visit. She lived out of town, didn’t like the city much so she rarely visited us, but when she did?’ He sucks on his teeth before laughing again. ‘My mom would buy out the entire flower shop. We’d have to clean the house top to bottom, _twice_ , use all this fancy china she’d stashed away someplace.’

The Dixon wrinkles his nose and laughs.

‘And my mom, all,’ Taiwo lets out a terrible high-pitched giggle, ‘ _that’s_ so _funny, Adaugo_! _Oh my_ _word_! Just sucking up so bad, every single time. She kept it up for years. I never really thought about it at the time, it was just something that happened, you know? Makie ‘nd me would always try to dodge the visits, oh my mom would strangle us whenever we had something else to do.’

‘Probably took the heat off of her a while when you two were around.’

Taiwo nods, ‘she adored us, but sitting through that song and dance? Tiring.’

‘Well, don’t worry,’ Daryl says, ‘Maggie’s gonna get sick of it real quick. Pretty soon she’ll have me weeding those damn gardens of hers again. _Oh, your back hurts, sweetie? Maybe you ought to work a little harder_.’

Taiwo snorts and shakes his head, gently pushing at his shoulder, ‘she wouldn’t do that.’

‘No. She wouldn’t,’ Daryl agrees with a smirk. ‘I’m gonna play it up for a good long while. Hate fucking gardening.’

The smile fades from Taiwo’s face. He looks down at his socks, picks at a small tear in his jeans near the pocket, adjusts his armor so it’s looser. ‘So… you’re planning on staying a while?’

‘At Hilltop?’ Daryl glances over his shoulder to check on a noise. He watches how one of the teenagers curses softly and tries to straighten up a bucket of arrows near the gate. ‘Yeah. I want to be with Kiss, make things better with Maggie. Have some solid ground under my feet, y’know?’

‘Yeah. All right…’

‘What’s wrong?’ Daryl looks down at his boots before peeking up at his boyfriend, who raises both eyebrows in a question. ‘You look like there’s something wrong.’

‘I just thought you had that in Washington,’ Taiwo says with a shrug. ‘With me. I thought you liked staying there.’

‘I do! But this is my home.’

Taiwo makes a soft noise, almost a hum and plucks at his fingernails. He pulls a face but doesn’t say anything.

‘If you got something to say, just say it.’

‘I don’t have anything to say.’

‘Looks like ya do.’

Taiwo shrugs and looks away, ‘well, I don’t. So…’

‘Okay.’ Daryl hesitates, his touch on his boyfriend’s knees light, ‘well… I’m going to bed, so…’

‘Good night.’

He works his jaw when Taiwo doesn’t lean in to kiss him, nor does he get up to join him. ‘Yeah. G’night.’ His steps are slow when he walks away, his fingers now lingering on the open doors, streaking past the flowing curtains until he sits down on his side of the bed.

Through the curtains, he can see Taiwo turning away, looking out over the community that’s drowning in the darkness of the night.


	20. Stretching

* * *

When Daryl walks back up the staircase, he can feel the stares linger on his naked back. There’s a towel draped over his left shoulder, obscuring the most vicious scars from view, but the rest of them are on full display. Water droplets land on his shoulders and collarbones, dripping down either his chest or spine. With one hand, he tries to hitch his jeans a bit higher, but the rough denim grazes over the newest scar which is still sensitive so he leaves it.

Back in the room, he finds Taiwo sitting on the edge of the bed. The radio cradled in his hands.

‘You’re up early,’ Daryl says as he closes the door.

‘Makie leaves right after dawn usually, I wanted to check in.’ Taiwo puts the radio on the nightstand. ‘What’s with the sour look? No more hot water?’

‘Nah,’ Daryl uses the towel to vigorously dry his hair for a couple of seconds, before throwing it onto the chair. ‘You’d think people would be fucking used to it by now.’ He grabs his necklaces from the desk and puts them back on before twisting to look at the new scar. ‘It’s just one more.’

‘People were staring?’ At Daryl’s curt nod, the corner of Taiwo’s mouth curls up. ‘Well, I hate to break it to you, but I sincerely doubt that they were looking at the scars. It should be illegal for you to walk around half-naked and dripping wet. Distracting.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Daryl mutters. He groans when leaning down to grab a small metal box from his pack, the muscles still bothering him, especially since he’d forgotten to do his stretches before bed yesterday. The box is dented from being trashed around. It’s his first-aid kit. ‘Can you help me?’

‘Sure.’ Taiwo beckons him over and waits while Daryl turns his back on him. One of his hand grabs his boyfriend’s belt loops, making him stumble backwards, ‘closer. Give me the stuff.’

‘Christ,’ Daryl passes him the box. ‘I don’t understand why he wants me to put this on still.’ He inhales sharply when Taiwo puts a silicone sheet over the new scar. ‘That’s cold.’

‘Still? It’s only been a couple of days, Dare.’ Taiwo gives him a gentle push to say he’s done and Daryl can step away. ‘Besides, it makes sure your armor doesn’t catch on the raised skin when your shirt rides up. Doctor’s orders,’ he says when Daryl turns around and opens his mouth to protest. ‘Just do as you’re told for once.’

‘Good lord, fine.’ The Dixon pulls his shirt on and sits down on the chair by the desk, swiping the wet towel aside so that it falls onto the floor. He leans down to properly tie his laces. ‘I’m going out with Maggie, by the way. She wants to see if they can restart that project up north, figured I could go with her. Spend some time, y’know.’

Taiwo frowns. ‘Go out when?’

‘After breakfast. We’ll probably be back around noon or something, shouldn’t take long.’

A bitter laugh escapes Taiwo. ‘And I’m supposed to sit around, wait until you get back?’

Daryl looks up and leans on his knees with his elbows. ‘What? Ehh… well, you can… do something, in the meantime?’

‘Like what?’

‘Whatever you want. Explore some, take a break, hang out with Luke and talk music. There are some records stored in the attic, by the way, maybe we got some you don’t already have? Or you can switch out the stash in the living room with some good ones. Paul has snuck jazz in there. Hell, if you’re aching for a job, I’m sure Kal can think of something, but you don’t need to. You’re a guest.’

‘A guest. Right.’

Daryl scratches at his cheek, ‘well, you know what I mean. You don’t gotta find a job or nothing.’

‘So I’ll just sit here and be pretty? Wait until you come back?’

Daryl arches an eyebrow. ‘What’s fucking wrong with you, man? Good lord, no, you don’t gotta _wait_ for me. I ain’t ever waiting for you at Washington when you’re out working while I’m off the roster. It’s Hilltop. Find something to do, or don’t. I don’t fucking care.’

Taiwo rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, I can see that,’ he mutters before getting up and grabbing his dao. He clips the sheath to his belt. ‘Whatever. Let’s go grab some food.’

The Dixon gets up. ‘You could go back to Washington, if that’s what you want…?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Taiwo says as he opens the door and heads down the hallway, ‘and then you snap your fingers and I’ll drop everything to come running over again, right? That’s how this works now? No, that’s a _great_ idea, Daryl.’

‘Look, I didn’t tell you to drop everything and come to – _I’m grateful that you did_ ,’ he says quickly when Taiwo whirls around with a murderous look on his face. ‘I’m just saying; if you hate _waiting around_ here so much, I’d understand if you’d like to go back home.’

‘By myself.’

‘Well,’ Daryl frowns, ‘yeah… I done told you; I want to stay here a while.’

‘So we’ll see each other for five seconds when you make a drop at the safe house, or whenever you’re about to slice your fucking wrists – yeah, no, great.’ Taiwo makes a throw-away gesture and walks down the stairs. Then he stops and walks back up, ‘I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.’

‘You’re being an asshole.’

Taiwo closes his eyes for a second, ‘I said I was sorry. Look, I’m just….’ He glances at the long, winding staircase behind them. People walk in and out, their voices and footsteps echo. There’s laughter coming from the dining room. Suddenly, Taiwo walks back, puts a hand on his boyfriend’s hip to make him turn around and steers him back into their room. ‘Look,’ he says as the door closes behind them, ‘I’m just worried that this won’t be the great, grand family reunion you’re hoping for.’

Daryl leans against the desk with his hip. ‘Why’s that?’

‘Because there are _people posted outside the room_ when you and Maggie get together, Dare.’

‘So because they’re psycho, I’m a sucker for-‘

‘They’re not _psycho_ ,’ Taiwo objects. He walks over and gently kicks Daryl’s feet apart so he can stand between them. ‘And you’re not a sucker, but the way you were when you turned up at Washington’s border the last time? I don’t want you going back to that. Maggie’s fine – Kiss is good. You’ve checked on them – I understand why you wanted to see them after….’ Taiwo shakes his head, ‘but we can go now. Go home.’

‘ _Your_ home.’

‘It could be your home too if you-‘

‘My home is where my family is,’ Daryl says, through clenched teeth. ‘It’s with Ezekiel at the Kingdom, with Carl at Alexandria. Beth. It’s right here, with Maggie ‘nd Hershel. With Paul. And right now, I’m choosing to stay here.’ He pushes past Taiwo, ‘you do what you want.’

Maggie decides that they will walk.

Daryl doesn’t know whether that’s because of his hurt back, or the nasty scowl that’s on his face when he arrives at the gate after breakfast. A little bit of both, he suspects because Maggie looks at him with that strange mix of sympathy and curiosity but she doesn’t ask him anything other than a soft; ‘ready?’

The gates open. Close.

They walk on opposite sides of the road.

After ten minutes, his muscles start to warm enough for him to be comfortable, even though his crossbow drags his right shoulder down. The sun is shining but the wind is cool, which is his favorite kind of weather. The sleeves of his leather jacket have been pushed up past his elbows but he’ll soon take it off to carry in his backpack.

Maggie is two steps ahead of him. Wearing sturdy boots, dark jeans and a longer, green jacket that makes her blend in with the tall grass and woods beyond. The dark-brown hair is getting long again, now almost reaching her shoulders. The holster of her gun is old, probably from the early days in Alexandria, or maybe even from the prison. The sheath for her knife is much newer. Plain but well-made. She probably bought it at the fair.

‘Taiwo wants me to stay at Washington.’

Maggie doesn’t seem surprised by the sudden statement. She glances at him for just a second, expression neutral, before ducking under a branch. After all these years, she’s gotten used to him blurting out what he’s afraid to say. ‘Did he ask you to move in with him?’

‘No. But he said we could go home now that I’ve showed my face here. Said his place could be my home, too, though,’ Daryl mutters. He aims a kick at a rusty can and it skitters down the road. ‘So that’s kind of asking, without asking, right?’

‘You know him best,’ Maggie says as they turn onto a small path that loads through the woods. It forces them to walk closer together. ‘Would you like to stay in Washington?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘I like it ‘cause he’s there, right? And Makie, ‘keem – all of them. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to being underground though. It’s always cold, even though they got those lights up, ‘nd everyone is living in that train… I doubt Mason would let me keep that room under the stairs – it’s meant for guests. Besides, me ‘nd Tai wouldn’t be able to fit in that shoebox together for longer than a couple of nights. Don’t got no storage or nothing.’

‘Didn’t you say that there were houses near the station, within the walls? Maybe you could stay there?’

Daryl looks at her. He’s not quite sure what he’d expected, but a hesitantly offered option wasn’t it. A quick dismissal, a flood of reasons why he should stay at Hilltop or at least Alexandria or the Kingdom, maybe even a biting remark towards Taiwo for making him think about leaving.

‘Err, yeah,’ he says. An image of Jesus pops up in his mind, angry, in shadows, hissing that he shouldn’t be testing her like this. ‘I don’t want to move there, though. At least not right now,’ he adds, so quickly that he almost stumbles over his words. ‘Wouldn’t matter if they took back the White House and gave me that. Ain’t about fucking _storage_.’ He scoffs at himself. ‘I wanna stay here a while.’

Maggie’s expression doesn’t betray what she’s thinking. ‘He’s always welcome, if he wants to stay too, or visit.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl chews on his lips and hitches his backpack higher. ‘He knows that. Let’s cut through here,’ he says when Maggie looks his way.

She drops the subject.

They walk in silence.

Familiar paths lead them through the woods and past some open fields. An old safe house that has been turned into a ruin thanks to a summer storm about a year ago. There’s a small stream they cross by hopping over some stones before they enter the site of the project.

Several trees have been cut down and stacked on the north-side. The ground is more even there, though Daryl doesn’t like how they’re right on top of a small hill. The ropes and stops holding back the logs suddenly seem very doubtful, but Maggie seems pleased by the progress. She hikes up the incline and touches the wood.

‘These were meant for the expansion, right?’ Daryl asks as he follows her.

‘Yes.’ Maggie takes her hat off and looks around at the trees surrounding them, ‘but Aaron reckons they’ll be good for the bridge. We’ll need some more though.’

‘Way more if you want that expansion.’

‘The bridge is more important,’ Maggie says. ‘And we’ll need to ship some to the Kingdom.’

‘What?’ Daryl says as he sits down on one of the stacks that’s on safer ground, ‘Kingdom don’t got no trees now?’

‘They’ve got plenty of trees, but-‘ Maggie falls silent and looks at him.

Daryl grins.

‘You’re a pain,’ Maggie tells him flatly before she flinches. ‘I mean-‘

‘Don’t backtrack now,’ the Dixon warns with a laugh to show that he doesn’t mind the jab. ‘Nah, I know about shipping those to the Kingdom. Jesus told me about it yesterday. Apparently Aaron’s been working on those building plans day and night, and won’t shut up about them. Don’t know what was bothering him more,’ Daryl says while he chews on the nail of his thumb, ‘all the talkin’ or Aaron being too busy at night.’

Maggie slowly walks over. She unscrews the cap of her canteen. ‘Are Jesus and Aaron…’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Just know that Jesus wouldn’t shut up about him before I left. Don’t remember the bullshit excuse he gave me of why it wouldn’t work out.’

‘He always has one of those, doesn’t he?’ Maggie muses as she sits down next to him on the log. ‘I’m glad you two made up.’

‘Yeah, me too.’

She holds the canteen out to him. ‘And thank you for stopping by. I know you didn’t have to do that, but I’m very happy you’re here.’

Daryl nods and rubs at his nose before taking a sip, just to have something to do. ‘Yeah, no problem.’ He fidgets with the canteen. ‘Look – I’m really sorry about running off. Leaving a note like that? That was real shitty of me. The not calling… everything. I just want us to be how we were, again, but I know I gotta earn your trust back. After all that shit went down? I thought it were all on you, but me running away like that… weren’t right neither.’

Maggie reaches out and takes one of his hands in hers. She pulls it close and kisses the back of it. ‘We’ll be alright.’

‘Yeah.’ His gaze is drawn by two walkers that come stumbling over from across the field. Their shadows are long in the early morning sunshine. One of them barely more than sagging skin and bones, while the other must have died much more recently. It used to be a young woman, though it’s hard to tell how young with the weathered face and split-open chest. ‘Stay here,’ Daryl tells Maggie as he gets up and walks down the hill. The two knives slip into his palms and settle there, growing warm by his touch. He meets the walkers half-way. Grasping fingers touch his shoulders, his arms, but he moves between them to slam both of his knives into their heads.

The bodies fall into the grass. He looks down, moves the youngest body by prodding at her with his foot but then decides against going through her pockets. Packages of cigarettes have become easy for him to spot. Her jeans are too tight to fit them.

When he sits down next to Maggie again, he lifts his eyebrows, ‘what?’

‘Nothing. It just seems like a very long time ago when I was the one who told you to stay back and took care of them.’

‘Yeah, well, I saw these first. You can get the next two.’

Maggie smiles and knocks their shoulders together.

Daryl looks around them. ‘What the hell was there to _inspect_ about this place anyway? Bunch of wood. Tall fucking trees that still need to be cut down. Steep ass hill. ‘s all there is, right?’

‘We had to make sure it was all still here.’

Daryl sucks on his teeth and narrows his eyes.

Maggie tries to look innocent.

‘Fine. You got your talk in,’ he gets up and holds out his hand, hoisting her up as well. ‘Let’s get back before Dante thinks I’ve buried you somewhere. Speaking of Dante, doesn’t he know what’s up between Jesus ‘nd Aaron? He’s all about the gossip, right?’

‘Oh, _he_ is all about the gossip?’ Maggie asks with a laugh and pointed look at the teenager, ‘sure – but no, I haven’t heard anything about them. We need another fair, the rumors are drying up.’

Daryl rolls his eyes but laughs, ‘what we need is to make sure Dante and Felix never meet properly – they love their rumors too much. We were at this party – oh, I went to a party, by the way, - and he knew _everything_ about _everyone_.’

‘A party?’ Maggie seems surprised. ‘What kind of party? Did Mason know?’

‘A party-party,’ Daryl says, ‘with music ‘nd shit. Dancing. And… like, Mason knew… the next morning.’

‘ _You snuck out_?’

‘No! I mean, he didn’t _know_ we’d left, but we didn’t sneak out or nothing…’

Maggie looks at him.

‘What?’

‘Sometimes I don’t understand how you can take after me while we’re not blood related.’

‘No!’ Daryl argues, ‘you _snuck_ _out_! I remember Hershel telling me you snuck out _all the time_! You were way worse than I am right now. I just left.’

Maggie looks outraged, ‘I wasn’t! You’re way worse. I ran away. You ran away in the apocalypse.’

‘How is that _my_ fault?’

‘It’s not. It makes you the more terrible teenager though,’ Maggie says with a smug smile before she reaches out and drags him close, one arm slung around his narrow waist. ‘How was the party?’

At night, he dreams about Judith who stumbles out of that camper with cloudy eyes. Her mouth hangs open, the white shirt drenched with blood. It’s not hers though, but it’s on her chest, on her hands, around her open mouth. She snarls when she sees him. Missteps, falls and gets up, drags herself over towards him.

Daryl watches in horror. There’s a stillness that seems to settle on everything and anything, except for Judith. She fills his whole world with the raspy sound the dead make when they come too close. Her shuffling feet. The big hat askew on her head.

He reaches out. Trembling fingers as bait.

The tips touch the side of Judith’s face, caress her cheek before she grabs hold of his hand and wrist, and bites at his fingers until she can tear them off.

‘ _Daryl_! Wake up. Jesus Christ. Wake _up_!’

Pain flares somewhere near his shoulder. For one horrible moment, when his eyes open, he believes that it’s just another nightmare – real this time. Breath gets caught in his throat as his hand shoots up to cover his shoulder, to search for the wound, to see how a walker got –

‘It’s me, it’s me,’ Taiwo says as he scrambles back, one hand held up to shield himself, but the swing doesn’t come this time. ‘ _Shit_.’

Daryl slowly catches his breath. There’s sweat cooling on his skin. The room is dark, except for the small candle Taiwo has lit on his side of the bed. The zippo lighter glints in the soft light of the flame. No sound seems to come from the rest of the house. All he hears is his own pounding heart, his soft pants and Taiwo’s heavy breathing.

‘I’m sorry,’ Taiwo says as he falls into the pile of cool sheets near the end of the bed. ‘Normally I can get you to wake up faster.’

‘Ain’t your fault.’

‘Well, no, but I can still be sorry, right?’

‘Yeah. Thanks,’ Daryl murmurs. He sits up and grabs his water bottle from the nightstand, drinking some small sips until his heartrate slows down. ‘What time is it? Did you just get back?’

‘No, it’s getting close to dawn, I think,’ Taiwo guesses as he stretches but can’t quite see the moon outside of the window. ‘I didn’t stay out much longer than you, maybe half an hour? I was surprised you were already asleep.’

‘Surprised or glad?’

‘ _Surprised_.’

Daryl turns so he can look at his boyfriend, stretched out on the bed, one hand supporting his head. He looks sleepy, curls a wild halo and eyes small. ‘You’ve been avoiding me today.’

‘You told me to find something to do, so I did,’ Taiwo says with a small shrug. ‘Luke’s got a lot of great stories and he sure loves having a new face in the audience. You told me not to wait for you, they offered dinner at their place and it ran late. It’s not that big of a deal.’

‘Fine,’ Daryl puts the water bottle on the nightstand again and crawls back under his blanket, moodily turning on his side so he won’t have to face his boyfriend. ‘Sorry that I woke you up. G’night.’

There’s some shuffling, the mattress dips as Taiwo walks on his knees back up to the headboard before settling down again. The rustling of the blanket sliding over his shoulder, him shifting to find a good spot, the pillow getting thumped to make a little bowl so –

‘You know what,’ Daryl sits back up and turns around, glaring down at Taiwo, who stares up at him with surprised eyes, ‘fuck this shit. Everyone’s always going on about _my_ coping mechanisms but _yours_ ain’t much better! I’m not going back to sleep like this. I’ve got enough things fucking my brain up without having to worry whether you’ll be gone in the morning.’

Taiwo suppresses a yawn. ‘Why would you be worried about that? You’re the one who said I could do what I want.’

‘And that’s _leaving_?’

‘Well,’ Taiwo frowns and sits up, too, ‘at some point, but I was talking about spending the day with Luke. I thought you wanted to spend some time alone with Maggie?’

Daryl brings his hand up to chew on his fingernails. ‘I thought you were mad.’

‘I’m not _mad_.’

‘Just disappointed?’

Taiwo rolls his eyes, ‘oh, haha. I mean… I’ve told you before that I want you to move in with me and stay at Washington. If that happens tomorrow? Awesome. If that happens a year from now? Well… fine.’

‘What if I never want to stay there?’

Taiwo works his jaw for a moment before relaxing again, ‘we’ll see. You liked staying there!’

‘Yeah, for a while, but that happy reunion shit? It almost sounds like you don’t want me ‘nd Maggie making up. Would make it a hell of a lot more logical for me to stay in Washington,’ Daryl points out when Taiwo looks affronted. ‘I’m just saying…’

‘And you’re just thinking too much about it,’ Taiwo swipes at his knee with a soft laugh. ‘You know that’s not what I meant. I’ve been trying to get you to make up with Maggie since you arrived in Washington. Of course that’s a good thing, but are you really going to stay here the rest of your life? In a room down the hall from your mom?’

‘Maybe I’ll build a little hut out by the river, hunker down there.’

‘I’m not staying in a little hut,’ Taiwo says firmly.

‘Who says you’re invited? Gonna be me and those fish.’

Taiwo pounces, forcing the Dixon onto his back as he slides on top of him. Fingers wrap around wrists to pin them down, too. ‘That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. With your family, or with me,’ Taiwo says as he looks down. ‘You don’t do well on your own.’

‘Better on my own.’

Taiwo smirks.

Daryl smiles as he tries to get up to claim a kiss but can’t. A needy little whine escapes him.

‘If you’re staying here,’ Taiwo says, ‘you need to come visit me every chance you’ve got.’

‘Promise.’

Taiwo narrows his eyes suspiciously.

‘I swear!’

‘Okay.’ Taiwo leans down to kiss him and then hovers just out of reach. ‘Have you done your stretches?’

‘What? No.’ Daryl’s eyes widen. ‘I mean _yes_! Yes! Yes.’

‘Liar.’ Taiwo rolls off of him and points at the space next to the bed. ‘Do your stretches. I watched you get out of bed this morning, you looked like you were ninety.’

With a soft curse, Daryl gets up to do the stretches for his back. When he looks back, Taiwo is on his back, arms folded under his head, watching him with his lower-lip caught between his teeth. Daryl rolls his eyes but feels his cheeks warm as he starts, figuring it might not be a bad idea to do the stretches after all.

‘I kind of like the idea of you as a lumberjack,’ Taiwo says with a small smirk from where he’s sitting on Daryl’s motorcycle. He watches how the Dixon checks his pack over, the extra batteries, the gloves, a couple of extra water bottles. The smirk grows when he sees that the tips of Daryl’s ears glow red where they poke out of the dark hair. ‘It’s a shame that I won’t get to see it.’

‘You have the weirdest kinks,’ Daryl mutters as he checks the map again before folding it up and stuffing it into his back pocket. ‘I don’t get why they put you down as Piper One. There’s a fucking reason Merle used to call you Muscles all the damn time. Could use them now.’

‘Maybe it’s because my brain is even bigger. You need that when manning an outpost.’

Daryl eyes his biceps. ‘That wouldn’t even fucking fit.’

Taiwo laughs. ‘Thanks?’

‘Yeah – whatever, c’m here,’ Daryl pulls him off the bike and into himself. They take a couple of small steps back until he hits the wall of the garage, hands on his boyfriend’s hips as he seeks out a kiss. It’s hot in the shed, the air still and filled with dust, but they don’t mind, don’t even notice that a droplet of sweat runs down Daryl’s neck, or that Taiwo’s sideburns are glistening with them.

They don’t notice anything.

At least not until someone clears their throat awkwardly.

The two teenagers spring apart like they’ve burned themselves, only to find Aaron standing in the door opening, looking a bit sheepish. He pretends to check his watch, ‘normally I’d wait, but it’s almost noon. They’re waiting on us with the shift change. Sorry.’

Daryl laughs as he wipes a hand over his reddened face, ‘yeah, a’right, sorry man. Ehh, you good to go?’ he asks Taiwo. ‘Kal’s probably waiting out front, he’ll take you to Jerry’s spot. I’ll come pick you up when we’re done at the site.’

‘Yeah, yeah – sure,’ Taiwo awkwardly pats him on the shoulder before walking away, hiding his own laughter. ‘Bye, Aaron. Sorry.’

Aaron watches the other teenager leave before he laughs, too. ‘I really didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m sorry, Dare.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Daryl says as he puts his pack on the bike. ‘You ain’t the first doing it, ain’t gonna be the last. If Maggie tells us to get a room one more time, I’m gonna get one in Alexandria, I swear to God.’

‘Oh, to be a teenager again.’

Daryl laughs. He grabs his bike, kicks the stand up and swings his leg over to fall into the seat. He pulls his bandana over his nose and mouth before nodding at the back. ‘Get on, old timer.’

Clearly, Aaron’s not used to getting on the back of a bike. He grunts while swinging his leg over, almost losing his balance while hopping on one foot before grabbing hold of Daryl’s shoulder and sitting down.

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ the Dixon laughs as he reaches back to guide Aaron’s feet to the pegs. ‘Just hold on.’

‘To _what_?’

‘To me, man. Here,’ he grabs Aaron’s hand and plants it on his waist, ‘or here’, he slaps it onto his shoulder. ‘I’ll take it slow, don’t worry.’

‘I’m not _worried_ , just – _whoa_!’ Aaron’s grip on him tightens when the bike shoots forward, out of the garage. They go up the small road, turns left and head down the main road until they reach the gate, where Daryl plants his foot down to wait for it to open.

‘You okay?’

Aaron snorts. ‘Yes, thank you.’

‘I’ll check again half-way, but if something’s wrong or you wanna stop, tap me one my shoulder two times, okay? And don’t do it for stupid shit. Carl once made us stop on the highway ‘cause he saw the road sign for the 269. Covered the two with his hand. Giggling like he were three.’

Aaron chuckles and squeezes his shoulder. ‘I won’t do it for stupid shit. Promise.’

Daryl grins beneath his bandana and revs the engine until the gap is just wide enough to let them through. Dust kicks up behind them.

They’ll return hours later. Covered in blood.

One of them screaming for Alex to help.


	21. An accident

* * *

‘I’m bored.’

Daryl laughs which causes the axe to come down way more softly than he’d intended. There’s a small crack in the log, but there’s no sign of it splitting any time soon. He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans before grabbing the radio which was balanced on a low branch next to him. ‘That so, huh? I’m sweating like a whore in church. Wanna trade?’

‘Not really,’ Taiwo drawls. ‘Someone left a magazine behind. Do you know what you need to do when you feel insecure, Daryl?’

‘What?’

‘Put some red lipstick on and be a boss bitch.’

Daryl laughs. ‘I fucking hate you sometimes.’

Taiwo laughs as well. There’s some static on the line and Daryl can imagine how his boyfriend lounges at their first diversion station. A fancy word for a low cart that has nothing more than a plastic chair and mounted alarm that only works when you crank it hard enough. Several small herds still come through their territory, and Aaron fears that the sound of trees coming down will lure them over to their lumber site. He has devised a simple but effective plan with various diversion sites that will lure the herds away whenever necessary.

‘Oh, by the way,’ Taiwo says, sounding distracted as he leafs through the magazine, ‘I didn’t know you played Ping-Pong?’

A coldness washes over Daryl. The sweat on his skin cools as he glances over to where Aaron is ordering some people towards one of the logs that needs to be moved towards the stockpile. He turns away, working his jaw for a second. ‘I don’t,’ he says, words clipped.

‘Oh?’ Taiwo doesn’t pick up on his unease, ‘Justin said you were pretty good at it. Told me to ask you about it. Is he a friend of yours or something? Or some kind of groupie? He wouldn’t shut up about you.’

Daryl looks down at the axe in his hand. ‘Ain’t no friend of mine.’

‘Thought not. Kind of a weird guy. Hey,’ Taiwo seems to bite back a grin, ‘want to do this quiz? _Does he like you_? Ten questions and you’ll know. Simple as that, man. Here, first one; have you ever had a moment when you felt like he wanted to kiss you?’

Daryl smirks, ‘this morning, but I’d just sucked him off and he’s a little bitch about tast-‘

‘ _Are you insane_?’ Taiwo hisses before laughing. ‘This is a _radio_. People can hear us!’

‘Secure line,’ Daryl sniggers. ‘That solar one is connected to the rest.’ The laughter disappears abruptly, ‘you _have_ been checking that one, right?’

‘Yes, little prince, sir,’ Taiwo drawls, ‘I have been checking the solar walkie. Tara needed help filling out a crossword puzzle, guess she’s got the boring magazines at her station. Quiet otherwise.’

‘Good. I gotta get back to it, or Aaron will chew me out. See you tonight. Over and out.’

‘Over and out.’

Daryl puts the radio back and takes a big gulp of water from his canteen before lifting his axe to his shoulder again. All around him, he can hear steel trying to split wood, or people debarking the logs by slamming the flat side of their axe on the bark and then peeling it off. One guy on the crew warned them to do it on site. It gets harder and harder to do the more time passes between cutting the tree down and debarking it.

Despite trying to get Taiwo to trade with him, Daryl actually enjoys the manual labor. The methodical chopping with the axe leaves little room for any other thought. He works until he gets too close to the center and then calls the guy over with a sharp whistle to help bring it down. The crash is loud. It causes the earth to shake beneath his boots.

The man laughs at his beaming face. ‘Good job, little prince.’

Ropes are tied around the fallen tree so a couple of their horses can pull it over to the big piles. When that’s done, Daryl leads the horses back over to the middle of their lumber site, when he ties their leads to another rope. A hand trails over their sweaty necks in thanks before he makes his way back over to Aaron.

‘Can you cut those branches off?’ Aaron asks as he watches how one of the guys climbs on top of the pile so he can pull the big log up, while others are getting ready to push it up. ‘We don’t have to debark these, and I want to wrap it up for today.’

Daryl glances at the sun and nods, ‘yeah, a’right.’ He watches how two guys brace themselves to push the log up a small ramp. ‘You sure you don’t want me to help with that?’

‘We got it,’ Aaron assures him. ‘Get that done and you can help with the last one.’

‘Whatever you say, boss,’ the Dixon mutters as he eyes the former savior that’s standing on the top of the pile, before he moves to his tree. He grabs a saw and starts cutting away the branches. It’s an easy task. Behind him, the men moan and groan while trying to get the tree up. They fail the first time. It slides back and Aaron needs to rally the men to give it another try.

Daryl’s attention is suddenly drawn to the horses. One of them stomps their feet on the ground and tries to look behind them, voice shrill as they whinny, nostrils wide open and eyes scared. Another starts too. Feet scrape over the dry patch of earth as they move around restlessly.

Daryl lowers the saw with a frown before heading over. After a couple of steps, he can see why they’re nervous. Three walkers are ambling over, between the piles of logs. Nobody had heard their footsteps or growls over the sound of manual labor. He bends down to grab a cut-off branch off the ground, examining the tip for a second.

It’s too short to really feel like one of the Bo’s Morgan would lend him, but it serves him well enough. The tip easily reaches the walker’s brains, stilling them. Only when the last one falls, does Daryl look up. They’ve led him past the stacks, into the open field.

For a second, he doesn’t believe what he’s seeing.

A herd of about fifty walkers is stumbling out of the forest and heading their way. Their growls and snarls now loud to his ears, now that he’s outside of the lumber site. He looks back, where the men are still trying to get the log up, Aaron with clenched teeth right below it, two men on top. Others are removing branches, gathering the bark and tools so they can finish up for today.

‘A herd’s coming!’ Daryl shouts to warn them. ‘Bug out now!’ Another walker comes his way and he uses the branch as a baseball bat. Blood and rotting brain-matter flies away and pools in the grass as the walker crumbles before him.

There’s some shouting going on behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees how a man jumps off the stack. A rope shoots loose as it’s let go. The big tree starts to slide back. Another man comes stumbling away from the stack. Daryl frowns but tries to focus on the walkers heading their way. There are too many for them to fight. The crew is too small and apart from Aaron, he’s not sure how many are actual soldiers.

Then he hears a shout, and then a moan. He looks behind him and sees that Aaron is on the ground, pinned down by the big tree. It doesn’t even register fully, all he thinks about is that Aaron can’t leave and the walkers are coming.

He runs over, glancing at the other men. ‘Get the horses out! You – get over here right now.’ Two men run over to help with the big tree. They try to lift it together but can’t get it to move.

Aaron strains to look behind them. ‘Go!’ he says, ‘get out of here. Dare, go!’

Daryl glances over his shoulder and looks at the other men. ‘Keep on him,’ he says before drawing his two knives and turning on the walkers. Training kicks in quick. Double-wielding has become easy thanks to Paul, but he draws on every technique he’s learned to make his way through five walkers to give them some time.

Then he runs back, kneels next to Aaron and helps to push the tree off of him. Aaron tries to sit up, pale and groaning and nearly falls into the teenager. His left arm is a bloody mess of broken bones. It’s an open wound, Daryl can see the bones and muscles and he wonders how the hell Aaron’s still conscious.

Aaron looks down at his own mangled arm. ‘Oh, _shit_!’

‘Come on,’ Daryl urges as he jumps to his feet and starts to drag his friend up as well. ‘Get up! Get up.’ The good arm is draped over his shoulders so he can pull Aaron along. ‘Come on. You’re just fine.’

A rotting hand grabs hold of his shoulder. It will always surprise him how strong dead men can be. He’s pulled back hard, can feel the body close to him, the face budging up against the side of his own, the growls so close that he fears-

It’s silenced by a throwing knife.

Daryl breathes in sharply as he looks up.

Enid looks just as surprised as he is, though she manages to hide it quickly with a small, satisfied smile. From behind her, a crew from Alexandria swarms the building site, led by Carl. The younger Grimes grabs one of the hatchets from a cart and slashes through the first three walkers before he spots his brother.

Daryl ignores him. Has too, because Aaron’s getting heavier and quieter beside him. ‘Enid! _Enid_ , _help_!’

The young woman comes running over, ponytail swinging. Her eyes widen at the sight of Aaron’s arm, but she ignores his groans and moans while grabbing his side. ‘Let’s get him over there, put him down,’ she shrugs her pack off her shoulders. ‘Is Alex here?’

‘No,’ Daryl says he lowers Aaron to the ground. ‘It’s just you.’

‘Just me, then,’ Enid says quietly. She looks at the arm and her face hardens. ‘I have to amputate.’

‘ _What_?’ Aaron’s voice is just a squeak.

‘There ain’t no other way? We’re in a fucking _field_! Bind it up and we can get him to-‘

‘He’s losing too much blood,’ Enid cuts him off. ‘He’ll die before we can get him to Harlan or Alex. The bleeding won’t stop, Dare.’ She rummages around in her pack and takes an emergency kit out. It unfolds to reveal several scalpels and clamps.

‘You got something for the pain?’ Daryl asks as the realization begins to kick in that they’re going to do it here and now. He shifts closer to Aaron, who’s shaking, one hand on his curls, the other helping to hold the arm still.

‘It wouldn’t kick in fast enough,’ Enid says. ‘We have to do this now.’

She hands him a thin, leather band. He wraps it around Aaron’s upper arm, right above the wound and starts to pull it tight. The man struggles against him, groaning and moaning in pain, and Daryl almost wishes he’d pass out. ‘Sorry, man,’ he mumbles as he applies more pressure to stop the blood flow.

‘I need you to hold him down for me!’

Daryl leans over Aaron to push his chest down.

Someone comes sliding towards them, knees kicking up some dust but the hands grab hold of Aaron’s ankles to keep his feet and legs in place as well. Carl’s panting as he pins them down, ‘I’m here.’ There’s blood splattered over his face, sweat drips down his neck, a grim look in his eye.

Enid nods and grabs the biggest knife she has. It shakes as she moves over to his arm. She looks horrified at what she’s about to do.

Aaron folds his hand over Daryl’s, holding on tightly, but he looks at Enid. Voice rough as he nods, ‘you can do it.’

Daryl doesn’t understand how he can still find it in himself to reassure _them_ , when he’s about to undergo traumatic surgery in the middle of a field, surrounded by a bunch of teenagers. That he’s still trying to offer them some comfort while their knives are shaking and eyes won’t meet his for fear of losing him. Daryl leans closer, let’s his forehead gently rest against the man’s. ‘You saved us, and we’re gonna get you out of here, man.’

Aaron nods. ‘Do it!’

The knife plunges in and Aaron screams. Daryl has to lean back to tighten the cord again, eyes closed as the man he loves so much screams and tries to trash around. He’s relieved when the pain finally become too much and Aaron passes out. He opens his eyes again to see Enid work.

Tears on her cheeks but with grim determination. Scalpels, clamps, a heated knife to cauterize the wound as best she can. Blood splatters on her face, now too. She wraps the wound up with shaking hands, eyes wide as she sees the cut-off arm nearby. ‘We’ve got to get him to Hilltop,’ she says, voice oddly distant and cold.

One of the carts is readied. Daryl helps to lift Aaron on. They sit beside their friend, him, Carl and Enid, in the back of the cart, eyes fixed on the rise and fall of Aaron’s chest. The world moves around them. People take control. Someone clacks their tongue and they’re moving, as fast as they can. Aaron’s body is rocked and Daryl grabs hold of his shoulder, two fingers digging into the softness of his neck to feel his heartbeat.

It calms him, but only slightly.

Nobody says anything. Not until they’re back at Hilltop.

Suddenly, Alex is there and Enid explains what she had to do. People grab hold of Aaron and carry him into the infirmary. Alex and Enid disappear inside. Infections. Bacteria. Pain management. It all floats past Daryl, who moves to sit on the end of the cart. His feet don’t touch the ground.

Carl sits down beside him.

They’re quiet.

Numb.

Another flurry of commotion and Maggie appears before them. Dante hovers at her elbow. Daryl’s not quite sure what she’s saying, but she touches his cheek gently and he shakes his head, hoping that she’d asked whether he’s hurt. Probably, because she looks torn but leaves him. Runs over to the infirmary instead.

The world spins and spins – without them.

Daryl doesn’t know how much time has passed when the gates open again. Kal and Paul come marching in. Taiwo walks next to Paul, quiet and subdued. Justin is getting pushed around by Kal. He’s loud, animated as he makes a throw-away gesture and then points at his radio with both hands.

Taiwo’s gaze suddenly finds Daryl. He stops walking and turns to head towards him, but Paul puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him towards Barrington house.

It hardly registers.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Carl says softly as he leans forward to let his head rest in his hands.

‘Yeah.’ Daryl looks at his boots. ‘Thanks for comin’. Don’t know what we’d have done without all y’all.’

‘Yeah – of course. We were just closest – clearing the riverbank on your side of the border. Shit, when I heard him call in that the herd wasn’t getting turned around – my God.’

Daryl stares at the dried blood on his hands. There’s a strange ringing sensation in his ears, not quite a noise but something alienating. Disconnecting – shock, he knows from experience, and it’s strange to realize it and not be able to do something about it. The world moves slower, until it catches up with him in one nauseating lurch.

The herd.

His boots hit the dusty driveway before he realizes he’d gotten up. It causes him to stumble. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees how Dante gets up from where he’s sitting near the medical bay. Concern on his face, torn between calling Maggie out and walking over.

Daryl starts to run. Up the driveway, up the steps, bursting through the giant doors. The hall of Barrington house is empty, but the door to Maggie’s office is closed, so he barges in without knocking.

‘- _and I don’t give a shit what you were trying to_ -‘ Kal is in the middle of a fiery rant when the teenager bursts in. It’s aimed at Justin, who’s got his arms folded in front of his chest as he leans against the windowsill. There’s a moody look on his face, almost as if he’s sulking.

Taiwo is sitting on a chair nearby, hands deep in his natural curls, surprise plastered onto his face as he looks up to see Daryl standing there. Paul is leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor, face slightly pale.

‘Which one of you was supposed to turn that herd?’ Daryl breathes out through clenched teeth.

‘Taiwo’s alarm went off,’ Paul says quietly. ‘He’s also the one who radioed Carl and his crew for help.’

‘Hey!’ Justin takes a step towards Daryl, hands up like he’s trying to calm a spooked horse, ‘the walkie wasn’t charged.’

‘Bullshit,’ Daryl says, ‘it’s a _solar_ walkie. You didn’t think to check it?’

‘It’s not my fault that the radio’s a piece of shit.’ Justin argues. ‘I didn’t have two like lover-boy over there!’

Daryl lunges forward, grabs Justin by the shoulder, drags him back only to hurl his straight through the window. The glass shatters. A body thuds on the ground. With a grunt, Daryl jumps onto the window frame and then down into the grass. 

Justin groans and winces but tries to get up. He’s far too slow. By the time he’s on one knee and wobbling away, Daryl is already there.

One kick sends the man sprawling in the grass, on his back with blood coming from his mouth. Stark against his pale skin. It’s not enough to shock Daryl out of the sudden rage that engulfs him. Not nearly enough. So instead of stopping, Daryl walks over again and grabs Justin’s shirt, hauling him a couple of inches off the ground.

He brings his fist down, hitting the man in the face. Again, and again, and again, and again –

‘Daryl! Stop!’

Again, and again-

Until someone grabs his arm and twists it painfully backwards. Paul’s panting with the effort it takes to restrain the teenager. ‘I said; _stop_.’

Daryl’s breathing hard. There’s sweat mixing with the dried blood now. His hair a stringy mess, eyes wide as he comes back to himself, start to feel again – pain flares in his right hand, in his shoulder. He can feel Paul’s body heat. Can suddenly hear Justin’s moans of pain, how pitiful his feet scrape over the ground in an effort to get away from him.

The silence of everyone else. When he looks up, the whole community seems to be staring at him. Kal, who looks horrified at the sight of Justin’s mangled face – Taiwo’s still in the windowsill, frozen. A couple of guards stare at him. A woman has a child in her arms, their face hidden in her shoulder. The teacher, holding a book and half-way over to the herb patch, eyes on him. Some students trailing after him, looking a bit sick.

Cold resilience settles in Daryl’s chest. It doesn’t matter what they see, or think of it, though this probably won’t be a surprise to anyone. Daryl Dixon of Alexandria. The demon from wars past.

‘If he dies,’ Daryl tells Justin, ‘I’ll burn you.’

‘Daryl!’ Paul jostles him.

Daryl laughs, ‘oh, I will. _You hear me,_ _asshole_? I’ll burn you alive!’

‘We’ll deal with him,’ Paul hisses, ‘but not like this.’

‘There’s only one way to deal with assholes like that,’ Daryl says as he relaxes his arm so Paul’s grip won’t hurt as much. There’s disapproval in the older man’s eyes, but no surprise. ‘Best let go.’

All around them, noise starts back up. It starts as whispers, the breeze picking up before a summer storm, before they can make out words – sentences, it gets louder and louder as emotions start to color the words. Shock. Disapproval. None of it matters. The corner of Daryl’s mouth quirks up and Paul’s eyes narrow with suspicion when he sees it.

‘He almost _killed_ him,’ someone says as two guards approach carefully to help Justin back to his feet. They have to carry him to the medical bay. ‘Someone get Maggie.’

‘That’s her son, what’s she going to do?’

‘He can’t just _do_ that! Whatever happened-‘

Daryl smirks. He rolls his shoulder, looks at the shimmering blood on his hands before reaching out and clapping Paul on the shoulder, leaving a stain on the man’s shirt. ‘Some new world, huh?’ He walks away, whistling a familiar tune.

It’s always cold in the cellar, always dark. Guards usually leave the hatch open so they’ll have some sunlight to guide them up and down the small staircase, but Daryl doesn’t need the help. The hatch closes with a loud bang, which causes a surprise gasp from one of the cells. Bars glint in the darkness, always damp, as Daryl walks past the empty rooms until he reaches the end.

Negan is sitting up, hands braced around the bench that serves as his bed. Posture tense until he sees who’s there.

Daryl wonders whether he still worries about someone coming in here to cut his life short. His stay here is a taboo topic above ground, everyone pretends he isn’t there at all, and Maggie refuses to say his name. Back to Alexandria, in a cage in the Kingdom, put to work in the city – maybe it would all have been better than to keep him this close, but right now, Daryl doesn’t mind so much.

‘What are you doing here?’ Negan asks as his gaze wanders over the younger man’s body, taking in the blood and sweat. ‘What happened?’

‘Gonna be neighbors,’ Daryl says with a smirk. ‘Like father, like son, huh?’

‘What do you mean?’ Negan frowns but he tries to slip back into his role, ‘see, this is where you mess up. You _try_ to be tough. We’re going to be neighbors?’ Negan laughs skeptically, ‘people don’t usually come _strolling_ down here to lock _themselves_ up, little prince. Give it a rest, tough guy. You can just say that you’ve missed me and wanted a chitchat. Bust each other’s nuts some, huh?’ He grins and walks over, reaching out between the bars to playfully knock his fist against Daryl’s chin. ‘What happened out there?‘

‘Thought you’d be happy I were following in your footsteps,’ Daryl says as he folds a hand over his heart.

‘Really? You’d think if someone were following in my footsteps, they wouldn’t skip the five wives part, you know?’ Negan wiggles his eyebrows and leans close, ‘it was the _best bit_!’

‘I’ve still got a lot to learn,’ Daryl nods as he walks over cell next to Negan’s, ‘so hopefully _my_ sentence won’t be for life.’

‘Sentence?’ Negan’s hands curl around the bars, ‘come back. What’re you talking about? Why are you down here?’

Daryl opens the cell, closes the door behind him. He lies down on the bench.

‘Hey!’ Negan sounds frustrated now. He kicks the bars. ‘ _Hey_!’

It doesn’t surprise him that the footsteps on the staircase are unsure, slow but loud thanks to the heavy boots. The hatch is left open, but fingers still trail over the wall as eyes adjust to the darkness in this place. There’s some rustling, both he and Negan sat up at about the same time, though Daryl isn’t getting up to have a look. He already knows who it is.

‘ _You_ ,’ Negan sounds accusatory and the footsteps freeze for a moment. ‘What the hell is going on? Hey, you sack of shit, I’m talking to you.’

‘We don’t have anything to say to each other,’ Taiwo assures the man. He passes the cell only to stop in front of Daryl’s. Shadows shift across his face, making it difficult to guess his mood from even that short distance between them. A hand curls around the bars of the door, pushes it open. ‘It’s not much of a cell if the door doesn’t lock.’

‘Bad manners to steal the keys on your first stint as a prisoner, even if it’s to lock yourself up.’ Daryl rubs at the dried blood on his hands. ‘How’s Aaron?’

‘Hanging in there.’

The Dixon hums. ‘Tough son-of-a-bitch. Can you keep an eye on Enid ‘nd Carl? That was some fucked up shit back there.’

‘If you hadn’t done that to Justin, _you_ could have been there for them,’ Taiwo points out as he leans against the doorpost with one shoulder. ‘Dare, you almost killed him.’

‘ _Almost_ don’t count.’ Daryl leans on his knees and smiles, pointing at the side of his head with a bloodied finger. ‘It was the shock, man. Weren’t right in the head. PTSD, Harlan calls it. I didn’t mean to do it. Thought he were Gareth. Flashbacks. You know how it is, huh?’

Taiwo narrows his eyes. ‘Really? You’re stooping that low?’

Daryl scoffs and then laughs softly, getting up. ‘Nah. You really think I need an excuse? He hurt someone I consider to be _mine_. You don’t walk away from that. Not anymore.’

‘It was an accident.’

‘Makes no difference.’

‘How can that _not_ make a difference?’ Taiwo asks, incredulous. ‘Yeah, he’s a fucking _dick_ , but he didn’t send that herd towards you guys on purpose. He didn’t mean for Aaron to get hurt. It was an _accident_ , Daryl. What? You think you have never caused anyone harm on accident?’

‘Everyone knows that Glenn would have been alive, if it weren’t for me,’ Daryl says as he slowly walks over to the bars. ‘It would have been Maggie’s right to decide my fate. She did, and she showed mercy. So did I; he’s not dead _yet_.’

Taiwo moves his jaw, ‘I didn’t mean-‘

‘You keep saying shit you don’t mean,’ Daryl says. ‘He’s alive. He best hope Aaron pulls through.’ The Dixon pushes against Taiwo’s chest so he has to take a step backwards. He closes the door again. ‘Sorry. No visitors allowed.’

His boyfriend seems to hesitate.

They look at each other.

‘What would you have done if I had been the one who hadn’t turned the herd?’

There’s another silence.

Daryl is the first to look away.

‘Hey, dipshit,’ Negan drawls from his own cell. ‘Visiting hour is over. You heard the little prince. We wouldn’t want to be breaking any more little _rules_ here, now do we? Oh, _shit_!’ The loud, booming laughter masks another set of approaching footsteps, ‘speaking of rules, _here she is_! Listen, Maggie, now that you’re here, might we discuss this little snag in our kid’s upbringing, because I’ve got a feeling that something is going wro-‘

‘Shut up,’ Maggie snaps as she stalks past his cell. ‘Taiwo, go upstairs.’

Taiwo lowers his gaze and shoulders past her. ‘Yes ma’am.’

She hardly seems to notice. Instead, she’s watching how Daryl walks back to his bench and sits down. There are no tears in her eyes, mouth just a firm line, though her voice is soft when she speaks. ‘There’s no sign of an infection yet, Enid did good. Alex thinks he’ll make it.’

Daryl nods to show that he heard it.

‘People think you’re in here because you were overcome with guilt. That you’re sorry.’

The corner of Daryl’s mouth quirks up.

‘They think one night will be enough punishment. They feel sorry for you.’

‘That right, huh?’

‘You knew they would. Everyone loves Aaron. Everyone loves _you_.’

Daryl hums and rubs at the blood on his hands. It flakes off.

‘That doesn’t make it _right_ , Daryl.’

‘The guy has a concussion, a broken nose… Hell, he’s missing some fucking teeth – _Aaron lost his arm_. Enid had to amputate it in the middle of a fucking field. Carl had to hold him down while he screamed. You’re right; it _doesn’t_ make it right. Should cut Justin’s arm off, too. See how he likes it.’ Daryl rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall. ‘But it was a mistake, right? An _accident_. Makes everything better. What’s he gonna do? Twenty-four hour community service? Ten if he says he’s really sorry?’

‘You believed in this new world,’ Maggie reminds him. ‘In a new way of doing things.’

Daryl scoffs. ‘Fine. Let him shovel in the gardens. I don’t fucking care.’

‘Because you already passed your own sentence.’

‘Passed my own sentence,’ Daryl’s laugh is wry. ‘I knocked a guy around because my friend’s arm had to be amputated because he were too lazy to check his walkie. This ain’t no big moral debate. He had it coming. But I’m here right?’ He gestures to the cell, ‘I believe in the system so much, I dragged my own ass down here. One night ain’t that high a price to pay.’

‘For vengeance.’

‘A split lip and a headache,’ Daryl corrects.

Maggie doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then she takes a keyring out of her pocket, checks whether the door is closed and locks it. She doesn’t say anything when she leaves.

To his surprise, Negan is quiet as well.


	22. As he's told

* * *

‘So, do you enjoy being the big bad wolf?’ Negan’s voice comes drifting over when it’s already dark out. Silver moonlight illuminates their cells. It makes the cutlery and empty tray glisten. One of the kitchen crew had brought it over earlier, eyes down and with a mumbled apology as he’d put it just inside of Daryl’s cell. ‘I know I did. I _loved_ it.’

‘That’s ‘cause you’re a piece of shit.’

Negan’s laugh is loud. ’Ahw, come on, little prince. Don’t tell me that didn’t tickle your balls. I’ve been telling you all along; you can have it _all_. You can _take_ it all. These people out here,’ Negan scoffs, ‘with their trials, their laws, their contracts. It gets boring. I’ve been waiting for someone to stir the pot around here. Should have known it would be you.’ The words sound smug and coated with glee. ‘Bet you messed that guy up good, huh?’

Daryl lights a cigarette. ‘Don’t you ever get sick of having to listen to your own bullshit?’

‘Put that out.’ The cheerfulness is gone all of a sudden, the voice a rumbling warning that still causes the hair to rise on the back of Daryl’s neck. ‘Know what I’m _sick_ and _tired_ of? Those nasty habits of yours. I’ve warned you about those.’

‘Yeah? What, you’re suddenly one those _your body is your temple_ dudes? Tara told me about those.’

‘No,’ Negan says. ‘I’m one of those; _you put another scratch on your body and I’ll break all your fingers_ \- kind of _dudes_ , but I guess I should have been more specific. _Don’t try to kill yourself_ , just isn’t _cutting_ it for you these days, huh?’ Negan shifts on his bench. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Getting old?’ Daryl asks as he blows smoke towards the ceiling. ‘Something wrong with your ears or something? Asshole had it coming.’

‘At _Hilltop_ , I mean.’

‘I live here.’

‘Right, well, good luck with that.’ Negan sounds bored. ‘I don’t know how Maggie does it. Teenagers,’ he makes a retching sound. ‘Sometimes I think: I need to pull a _Rick_ , you know? I need to have one of those _conversations_ with my boy! But fuck it, Maggie can deal with your sulky ass. I’ll take over when things get fun again.’

Daryl looks at the ashes. ‘Don’t talk about him.’

‘Or what? You’ll bash my face in too?’ Negan sits up, his voice suddenly a bit clearer, ‘you know what? Let’s fucking do it. Let’s have a _conversation_!’

Daryl sighs and closes his eyes but doesn’t respond.

‘Because there’s something about this whole thing that just makes my ass _itch_. A little birdy told me that you came home and were starting to make things up with Maggie. Doing patrols, helping that building crew, and all of a sudden you went feral on some asshole?’ Negan makes a tutting noise, ‘no _sir_! So come on, give me the scoop. You can tell me. Mom and dad aren’t talking much these days, so I won’t pass anything along to-‘

‘Don’t talk about her neither.’

‘Since when is Maggie off-limits?’ Negan wonders. ‘What did she – oh. _Oh_!’ Negan starts to laugh. ‘She was right, wasn’t she? You did pass the sentence, before she could even call-‘

Daryl gets up and stalks over to the bars, frustrated that he can’t get in the man’s face. He aims a mean kick at the bars to make them rattle, which only makes Negan laugh again. ‘What’s wrong with you people? I got mad, is all! Aaron got hurt and I were mad.’

‘You were mad because it could have been an accident, and Maggie wouldn’t have a choice but to give that asshole community service. People who fall asleep on their nightshifts have to clear walker traps the next day. What does not checking a walkie give you? An afternoon shoveling? Laundry duty for a week?’ Negan chuckles. ‘It wasn’t enough, so you beat her to it. Get it? _Beat_ her to it?’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘After all,’ Negan drawls, ‘what did the guy who killed your brother get? _A royal pardon_. And that wasn’t an _accident_.’

Daryl smokes his cigarette.

‘I get it,’ Negan says with a sigh, ‘but it’s _stupid_. Classic teen shit, you want everything here and now. Whatever makes your dick hard, right? Shit, I get that too! But you’ve got to learn to _wait_. You see… The big bad wolf is _useful_ ,’ Negan’s voice comes closer, low and dark, ‘to have around. It protects the sheep from other mangy pups who try to _take over_ and mess _everything_ up. Ever seen those nature documentaries, little prince? That lone wolf lurking at the borders of their land? It’s like that. You’ll protect them, if they stay with you. That’s why you need to be strong. For them.’

Daryl inhales sharply.

‘And _you don’t turn on your own flock_.’ Negan’s voice seems to be everywhere. ‘Sure. A nibble sometimes – a nip to keep them in line, keep them from thinking they’re the wolf, just enough so they get it. Just enough so they can live with it. Because if they can’t? Hmm-hmm-hmm. Even a big bad wolf can’t fight off fifty sheep coming for his throat.

‘You’ll get away with this,’ Negan predicts, ‘this time, but those excuses? _You’re their little prince. It’s Aaron._ Those excuses won’t hold for much longer. It’s a mistake this time, a lapse in judgement, PTSD. Next time? Next time it’s a pattern, and it’ll make everyone wonder who’s next. Hell, your own boyfriend was wondering whether it could have been him already!’ Negan chuckles. ‘Everyone likes having a big bad wolf watching over them. But if the wolf turns on one of _them_? Hmm-hmm. They’ll put it down.’

Daryl ends his cigarette on the bars.

‘Some fatherly advice for you,’ Negan’s voice is soft but it has lost the underlying threat. He scratches at his cheeks and sounds uncharacteristically unsure when he speaks next. ‘Hey, kid? Listen. Now that we’re doing this whole having a _conversation_ thing? There’s nothing wrong with my ears. I heard what you said to Taiwo. About… about Glenn?’

‘You say one word about him,’ Daryl growls, ‘you best pray they never let me out of this cell.’

‘I didn’t pick a second one because you punched me,’ Negan says. ‘I picked Glenn because… even after I’d bashed that ginger’s skull in? None of you broke. People were crying, sure, but always with that look in their eyes; _just you wait until I get up_. I had to shut _that_ shit down. If you hadn’t punched me, I would have taken another one anyway. Would have made something up. Would have probably put it on Carl for giving me the stink-eye. And it would have been Glenn, too.’

‘Why?’

‘There are so few happy families left,’ Negan says softly, ‘but they’re the foundation of any good group. Born into it, or made along the way; those ties hold _everything_ together. He jumped up to protect Maggie, and then risked his life to try and do the same for you. Losing someone like that…’ Negan sucks on his teeth and doesn’t finish the sentence. ‘It wasn’t your fault. I wanted you to know that.’

‘So you’ve spent months – years trying to convince me that it was, and now you’ve changed your mind?’ Daryl lets his forehead rest against the bars. ‘Going soft at your old age?’

‘I’m not your enemy, Daryl.’

He wraps his hands around the bars. ‘Shut up.’

‘All right.’ Negan’s voice is too gentle. ‘Just… I’m here, if you want to talk. I’m always going to be right here.’

The Dixon listens to the retreating footsteps, the sound of Negan sitting down on his bench again, the silence that rings out now, and squeezes his eyes shut.

It’s Paul who comes to get him early in the morning, before breakfast. The scout’s footsteps are soft on the steps and stones, skipping the bottom one and not pausing in front of Negan’s cell. They do halt about a step away from Daryl’s.

Paul slowly walks to the opposite cell and kneels down. A scraping noise and then he’s holding two knives with a familiar pattern engraved in their handles. He shifts, still knelt down as he looks at the cell.

‘Nobody took them from me,’ Daryl says without meeting the scout’s gaze. He hasn’t slept. He’s cold, shivering as he looks at his fingers, the skin around his nails badly damaged due to his nervous tic of biting on it. ‘Didn’t seem right.’

Paul gets up and opens the cell. He leaves the door open as he walks in and sits down on the bench.

‘How’s Aaron?’

‘He developed a fever overnight, but he woke up this morning. Enid says he knew where he was – what had happened. That’s a good sign.’ Paul puts the knives on the other side of the bench, out of Daryl’s reach. ‘Maggie wants to see you.’

‘Right.’ The scout makes no move to get up, so Daryl doesn’t either.

‘You’ve scared a lot of people with what you did to Justin.’

‘Not you though.’

Paul closes his eyes for a second. ‘If I hadn’t stopped you, you would have killed him. I know what Aaron means to you, how important he is, but he wouldn’t have wanted that, Daryl. For you to turn into… _that_. Ever since the collapse, he’s been trying to bring people _together_ , and-‘

‘Don’t lecture me,’ Daryl warns. ‘I’ve had enough of all these _conversations_ and I’ve still got to go see my _mom_. Good lord. What’s wrong with you people?’ He gets up, anger starting to boil in his veins again. The cell is too small to pace, so he stops at the bars and turns around.

Paul just looks at him. Still and silent, eyes warm as if he’s trying to understand – always so polite that it makes Daryl even angrier.

‘Don’t you ever get fucking _sick_ of it?’ Daryl asks. ‘That _this_ is all there ever is? When’s the last time something actually worked out? For us? We’ve got all these big plans, but everything goes to shit and I’m killing a bunch of _kids_ and next week I’m holding Aaron down while he _screams_ like…’ Daryl runs his blunt fingernails over his face, leaving burning trails on his skin. ‘Whatever. Fuck it.’

‘It’s not whatever, we can talk about-‘

‘ _Tell me when then_!’ Daryl shouts. ‘When’s the last time you went to bed and felt safe? What was the last good thing? Hershel being born? He’s getting old enough to _talk_ , man. Oh, Alexandria coming back to the fold? If that hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t have been out there with that crew in the first place! It’s shit! All of it. And everyone is like; _hey, run a mile and you’ll feel better_.’

Paul sighs. ‘I know it’s difficult to-‘

‘You don’t! You don’t know because you’re pretending like everything’s fine. We’re just out here surviving one fight to the next. We find people ‘nd cut them down before they get to us. Over and over – and they’re coming. Always,’ he gestures to the back of his head, moves his hand to mimic someone talking, ‘it’s always there, and nobody else seems concerned. Oh, we’re going to build a bridge so – and that’s _fine_ , but…’

‘ _Enough_.’

Negan’s booming voice causes Daryl to fall silent instantly. He stands there with a heaving chest, anger mixing with panic in his veins, tainting his whole nervous system until he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. It’s hard to breathe.

‘ _Come here_.’

He doesn’t understand why he complies. Why he snatches up his knives, walks out of his cell and slowly walks over to the next one, where Negan is standing by the bars. Big and imposing, barely more than a looming shadow in the semi-darkness of the early morning. Hair not slicked back, stubble on his cheeks, wearing an overall, but still with that look in his eyes.

‘ _Closer_.’

Daryl steps closer to the bars.

Negan reaches out. Cold fingers grab hold of his chin, dig into the softness of his neck, tug him closer still. ‘Stop it,’ the man says softly. ‘It’s _not_ all on you, and you’re _not_ the only one concerned. But the way you’re acting? It’s not helping Maggie to make things better right now. So if you’re that concerned; do something about it. Ask her who’s checking your borders. Who’s taking charge of that training scheme they were talking about? You can sulk in this cell all you want, run and hide again, or _be useful_.’

Daryl lowers his gaze.

Negan squeezes his chin hard. ‘Go report to Maggie, she wanted to talk to you. Tell that boyfriend of yours he wouldn’t have been put into the ground like Justin was.’

Daryl almost opens his mouth.

‘Trust me,’ Negan says with a small smirk, ‘just tell him that. A white lie will go a long way in any relationship. Keeps the peace.’

Daryl frowns.

‘Maggie,’ Negan reminds him, ‘the boyfriend, and then you come back here and tell me all about it.’ He leans forward and lets their foreheads rest against each other’s for a second. ‘Go.’

People standing around in the big hall of Barrington House fall silent when he enters. There are a couple of soldiers who are probably waiting on their radios, or Kal’s instructions. A woman has parked all the kids on their butts near the door to put their shoes on. Lydia is standing on the staircase, carrying a big basket with dirty laundry. Dante right behind her with another.

‘Da!’ One of the kids throws their boot aside to get up and run over on their socks. Big smile plastered on their face, not even seeing the blood or grime, hands still making impatient grabbing-motions. ‘Up!’

‘Morning, Kiss,’ Daryl says, ‘sorry, no up right now. I’ve got to go see Mom, okay?’ He presses a kiss to the boy’s black hair but quickly moves on, knowing that his brother will start to cry if he lingers for too long.

Maggie is sitting behind the desk when he enters her office. Soft sunlight falls onto a stack of papers. She takes a couple and rolls them up, putting an elastic band around them before holding the stack out to Eduardo, who’s waiting. ‘We need that fuel.’

‘I’ll get it,’ Eduardo assures her. He awkwardly tries to hide the papers behind his back when he spots Daryl. ‘Little- eh – Dixon. Hi. Good morning, I mean. I’ve – I’ve got to go.’

‘Give Bethy our love,’ Maggie says while she bites back a smile and watches him leave. Only when the door closes, does she shake her head. ‘We need fuel for the generators. I’ve also asked him to deliver some papers to the safe house near Washington. That’s your favorite destination. He said it felt like he was stealing your job.’

Daryl snorts and sits down. ‘Why the hell would I wanna go to Washington when Tai’s upstairs?’

‘The question is; how is it stealing your job when you’re in _prison_?’

‘Oh. Yeah.’ Daryl brings up his hand to nervously gnaw on his thumb. ‘Paul let me out.’

‘I know that.’ The words are clipped but not cold. ‘What you did was _wrong_. Today you’ll assist Earl, he’s late on some orders from Washington and needs the muscle. You’ll work until he tells you to stop. I’ve told him not to go easy on you.’ Maggie gathers some more papers for the next courier and binds them together. ‘Justin decided he’d rather stay at the Sanctuary from now on. He left before dawn on his own.’

‘Long road. Thought he were in bad shape.’

Maggie purses her lips. ‘I’ve send two people after him. He’d left without anyone knowing, probably took one of the tunnels during a shift change. Alex said he was talking about the Sanctuary yesterday, that it would be better there. He didn’t make much sense. He can’t have gotten far, those two will find him soon.’

‘Good riddance,’ Daryl mutters.

Maggie shoots him a sharp look. ‘Take your dinner up to your room tonight and stay up there. It’ll give everyone a chance to calm down. Carl and Enid are planning to go home tomorrow. If they come and stay with you, keep the door closed. I don’t want people thinking you’re having a party up there, or I’ll have you thrown back into prison.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I mean it, Daryl.’

‘I know.’ He shifts in his seat.

There’s a beat of silence.

Maggie looks at him. ‘You’re dismissed.’

‘Oh!’ Daryl gets up, feeling as awkward as Eduardo had done when he almost trips over the edge of the carpet, so confused about what’s happening. ‘Erhm. Can I go and see Tai real quick? He... err, he weren’t too happy yesterday, so…’

‘Be quick about it,’ Maggie says. Another elastic band snaps in place. ‘Earl doesn’t like it when people are late. He’s expecting you.’

‘Yeah, sure… I mean; yes ma’am.’ He bows his head and quickly leaves. It’s quieter in the hall now, with the kids and soldiers gone. One of the teenagers is sweeping the floor, his gaze follows Daryl up the staircase but he turns back to his chore when Daryl disappears down the hallway.

Taiwo is sitting at the desk, reading one of the books Luke had given him. It’s a biography about one of their shared heroes of music. The pages have turned yellow, some are even falling out now that the glue is disappearing. He looks up from the words for a second when the door opens and closes. ‘Oh,’ he doesn’t sound thrilled, ‘they let you out?’

‘Yeah…’ Now that he’s here, Daryl doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t want to apologize, isn’t convinced that he has done something wrong, but a nagging feeling somewhere in his mind says that he should say _something_. ‘Maggie’s putting me to work today. Guess I’m the one who got a community service sentence now, so… I best get to work. Got to report to Earl.’

Taiwo seems surprised. ‘Oh. Okay.’

‘What’s with the look?’

‘Nothing. I just didn’t think that Maggie would give her son community service. I mean, you’ve already spend the night in jail, everyone thought that was enough of a punishment. Everyone I talked to, at least.’

‘I think I talked to the leader of Hilltop instead of my mom,’ Daryl says with a small smile. ‘She didn’t even lecture me or nothing. I don’t think she want people thinking I’m getting off easy.’

Taiwo nods. ‘Probably.’

‘Okay,’ Daryl scuffs his boots on the floorboards, ‘so, I gotta go, but… I’ll see you later, right? Tonight?’

‘Sure.’

‘Okay.’

Taiwo waits a beat but then raises his eyebrows, ‘good luck…?’

‘Thanks,’ Daryl bites on the inside of his cheek and opens the door again.

‘ _Hey_!’ Taiwo is leaning back on the chair, arms spread out, a frown on his face. ‘Stop being weird and give me a kiss before you go.’

Daryl snorts and does as he’s told.

If there’s one thing Earl refuses to do, it’s let him get off easy.

The older man is already starting a fire when Daryl arrives. Weathered face, strong despite his age, with clear disapproval in his eyes whenever he looks at the youngest Dixon. The instructions are short, and almost barked at him. Simple two or three word sentences. _Cut wood. Check temperature. Move scrap. Hold this. Carry that over. Move_.

He gets five minutes every hour to drink water and catch his breath. It’s not nearly enough, but a sharp whistle from Earl has him trotting back over, ready to chop some more wood and keep the temperature steady to soften metal. Spear points are beaten into shape. Arrow points fall out of their molds. Nails are cooled in water and then throw into the grass to dry.

He works until he can barely stand anymore.

Lunchtime comes and goes, a blur of some extra water and Tammy having mercy on him by bringing him a sandwich which he has to eat while chopping wood. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Taiwo walking over to the medical bay with Carl and Enid. It makes him want to throw his tools down and join them, he didn’t do anything wrong and he wants to see Aaron, too, but he grits his teeth and works.

People returns from their own jobs and walk past him on their way to Barrington House. It’s not a pretty sight, but they still stare. Drenched in sweat, his armor and shirt thrown aside hours ago, hair plastered to his neck, panting as he keeps the doors to the oven open for Earl. Some jokes are made, something about a new apprentice, but the older man’s withering stare shuts them up quickly.

The dinner bell is rung but Earl doesn’t seem to notice.

Daryl glances at him and then continuous his work.

When it’s dark out, Earl leans onto one of the spears they’d made in the morning. There’s a whole pile of them in the grass, as well as boxes of arrow heads and nails. Sweat glistens on his forehead. He wipes it away with a rag. Then he turns to the teenager, who’s standing next to him with his hands on his knees, panting like a tired dog.

‘There are a lot of people out there that would say manual labor as punishment isn’t right,’ Earl says, ‘but you sure helped me out today, Daryl.’

‘Would have helped if you’d asked. Hell, Tai would have pitched in too, could have gotten it done a lot faster.’

‘It’s not about getting it done fast. It’s about doing it _right_.’

Daryl laughs as he straightens up. ‘That’s a real round-about way of making that point, Earl. I should have waited for Maggie to pass the sentence, doing the right thing, yadda, yadda, yadda.’

Earl laughs. ‘Hell, I just put in a request for extra help with Maggie and she came up with this. One thing I have to say; you’re not scared to get your hands dirty. Good work today, Daryl. Thank you. I’ll report back to Maggie that you’ve done your time, and then some.’

‘Thanks for letting me tag along today. And if you ever need another pair of extra hands; find someone else. This is some hard work, man.’

Earl shoves him towards the tubs of water outside of Barrington House, ‘go wash up before you stink up the place.’

Daryl laughs and does as he’s told.

By the time he’s drying his hair, he’s pretty sure that there’s no dinner left for him. There’s no noise coming from the dining room anymore. Everyone has already moved up to their rooms or to the living rooms. He doesn’t want to bother the kitchen staff cleaning up and heads over to the medical trailer instead.

Alex doesn’t seem surprised to see him. He just holds the door open a bit wider and yawns. ‘Last bed on the right. Hey, can you stay a little while? I need to get some sleep but I want someone to be with him. Enid helped all day, it’s still touch-and-go.’

‘Of course.’

‘Come and get me if _anything_ changes.’

Daryl nods ‘Get some rest, man. I got it.’ He walks over to the last bed on the right, that’s shielded from view by a privacy curtain.

Aaron is pale. One hand on his chest, the other arm resting beside him, wrapped up in clean bandages. He’s not wearing a shirt, the blanket tugged up to cover most of his chest. The blood has been washed away. He’s sleeping.

Daryl sits down on a chair that’s already been pulled close to the bed. The rest of the infirmary is quiet. There are no other patients. For a couple of minutes, he can hear Alex walking around upstairs, from the bathroom to the bedroom and office, but then that fades too. Daryl watches Aaron’s chest rise and fall. He’s scared that if he looks away for just a moment, the movement will stop.

So he watches. Up and down. Slow and steady. It’s such a rhythmic movement that it calms him down. A tiredness washes over him. He shifts the chair so he can lean back, feet on the nightstand, which Alex will probably scold him for later.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there before something changes. The world’s hazy as he refuses to fall asleep, fuzzy around the edges, almost too fuzzy to see Aaron’s fingers twitch.

The arm moves. Feet, too.

Daryl sits up and smiles when Aaron opens his eyes. ‘Hey,’ he moves over to sit on the bed, looming over his friend. ‘You’re okay,’ he whispers when Aaron’s face twists with discomfort, ‘you’re okay. I’m going to get Alex.’

‘Dare?’ Aaron’s voice is hardly more than a croak but his gaze finds the teenager and he relaxes. ‘No.’

‘No Alex?’ Daryl asks and the man shakes his head. ‘I gotta in a minute, man. It’s good to see you.’

Aaron eyes him. ‘You… look like… shit.’

‘Well, welcome back to you too, good lord. Couldn’t think of something more original to say?’ Daryl mutters and he’s pleased that the corner of Aaron’s quirks up. ‘Some of us have been working today instead of lying around.’ He reaches out and takes Aaron’s hand in his, holding on tightly. ‘Shit, you fucking scared me, man.’

Aaron squeezes back.

‘Remember when we met?’ Daryl asks. ‘You came just strolling up to that shack, with your pictures and applesauce and your _one guy_. We thought you were weak.’ He snorts. ‘Turns out you’re one of the toughest sons of bitches I know. I were fourteen. God, it’s been so long.’

Aaron smiles.

‘All those years, and this is where we’ve ended up.’ He tries not to sound bitter but can’t help himself. ‘It was supposed to be the start of a whole new world.’

‘I’m so glad I’m here to be a part of it,’ Aaron says softly, voice filled with wonder. ‘Thank you, Daryl. For _everything_.’

Daryl shakes his head. Sadness causes to cloud his mind. It makes everything heavy, too heavy to carry. ‘I haven’t done jack shit.’

Aaron laughs suddenly, also shaking his head. The joy morphs into pain as he reaches for his other arm, feeling the bandage under his fingertips, teeth now clenched together.

‘I’ll get Alex.’

The nurse administers some more painkillers while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and putting a comforting hand on Aaron’s shoulder. Together with the teenager, he watches how the man drifts off to sleep again. ‘I know you probably want to go, get some sleep, see Carl and Enid before they leave, but-‘

‘I’m staying here,’ Daryl says as he sits down again. He holds Aaron’s hand and watches his chest rise and fall.

‘Okay,’ Alex says softly. ‘I’ll be around to check on him, so… try to get some sleep, Daryl.’

Daryl nods and does as he’s told.

‘I _would_ have hurt you, if you hadn’t turned that herd.’ Nerves make him feel sick when Taiwo turns away from the balcony to look at him. ‘If it had been you instead of Justin, I still would have… I think. Maybe. I mean… ‘ He makes a frustrated sign with his hands. ‘I’m sorry. Like, I _love_ you, but I get it if you don’t want… anymore, you know, but... I love you. Don’t make it right, just… I don’t know.’

Taiwo raises an eyebrow.

Daryl bites on the inside of his cheek and presses his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

‘I’m not sure you would have,’ Taiwo says, ‘but if you ever try to hurt me on purpose, in anger, like that? There will be _hell_ to pay, Dixon.’ The other teenager walks over, all confidence and intimidating posture. One hand finds the collar of Daryl’s shirt, twisting it around his fist before tugging him close.

Their noses almost bump.

‘And, by the way, you phrased it wrong. You think you would have _tried_ to hurt me. One on one, you’re not winning, man.’

‘It’s not a joke,’ Daryl says with a small frown. ‘I would have hurt you.’

‘I’ve heard a lot of stories about you,’ Taiwo tells him. ‘About the outpost, the patrols you took out, the kid you tortured back at the farm. All those people you’ve killed at that town where your dad was staying at. Gareth, in the church. People were telling us stories about you before we even knew your name. _The monster of Alexandria. The little prince, oh if you hear those fast hooves, you’re already too late_.’ Taiwo smiles, ‘and then we met this blushing dork who beams when talking about his little brother. Who thought a date to the Smithsonian was _yeah_ – _okay, kinda cool, I guess_ , and then didn’t want to leave ever.’

Daryl blushes at the memory.

Taiwo laughs softly and traces the end of the scar on his boyfriend’s face. ‘You’re not some kind of monster, Daryl. You’re in your head too much. What happened _sucked_ – but not everything that’s going to follow is going to tear you apart. You didn’t hurt me. And you’ve served your sentence. That’s all there is to it.’ He ducks slightly to catch Daryl’s gaze. ‘Right?’

‘Right. Yeah.’

‘Good.’ Taiwo leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. ‘Come on, Enid and Carl are leaving. Let’s go say bye.’

Daryl kisses him back and does as he’s told.

Even after his brother is long gone, Daryl stands on the wall to watch how clouds slowly drift over the horizon. There are people working out in the fields, scouts race out of the gates to check the borders and work the horses while guards patrol the woods in case a walker comes stumbling over.

‘Earl was very happy with the work you’ve done.’

Daryl glances over at Maggie, who comes walking towards him. ‘We need to get Earl some real help. He’s not going to be able to keep that pace up – he shouldn’t have to. He has done his share.’

‘Don’t let him hear you call him old,’ Maggie warns as she leans against the wall and looks out over the fields. ‘He has two apprentices already. They were out collecting scrap yesterday.’

‘Oh. Good.’

‘Yeah.’ Maggie looks down at her fingernails, ‘Negan’s been asking for you.’

‘I’ll tell him to shut up later. Sorry.’

‘No… It’s… maybe you should go see him.’

Daryl looks at her.

‘If you want to, of course.’ Maggie pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, ‘Lydia tries to keep him in the loop – tells him things about you. He worries.’

‘It’s not real,’ Daryl says softly.

‘I think it is. He loves you. And sometimes things take up more space in your head when you try to avoid them. It’s better to face them.’ She gives him a small smile, ‘no matter how difficult that is. That’s why I’ve stuck him down in that cellar – I don’t want him to take up any more space. Sometimes I think about what will happen when Hershel gets old enough to start asking questions. How am I going to tell him how his daddy died?’

Daryl lowers his gaze.

‘I dread that,’ Maggie says, ‘but I can’t wait to tell him about him either. Show him some of your sketches. That picture of you two at the prison.’

Daryl smiles, ‘yeah.’

‘We’re going to have to decide what to do with Negan.’ She looks at him. ‘Is he going to stay in that cell forever? Put to work? Banished? Something else? I’ll call a meeting with the other leaders, but I think it will be up to us, so I need you to start thinking about what you want. Maybe we can talk about it before the next full moon?’

‘Yeah… sure.’

‘Thank you,’ Maggie pushes herself away from the wall, ‘I’ll see you at breakfast. Oh, and Dare?’

He turns to her. ‘Hmm?’

‘Next time, when you do something rash, open the window first? That glass is hard to replace.’

‘Oh. Yeah,’ he catches the edge of her smile as she walks down the staircase, ‘sorry ma’am.’ He turns back to look out over the rest of the world, and does as he’s told.


End file.
